A Dying Dream
by LVOWL
Summary: Something is chasing Miranda, entangling hers and the Doctor's lives together. As they try to work out the mystery, she finds herself finally getting to know the Time Lord but an unexpected foe may shatter their fragile world. Eventual 11/OC. SEQUEL to ALN
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I still don't own Doctor Who.

AN: Hello! Just so we're all on the same page, this is the sequel to A Living Nightmare. If you haven't read it, give it a go before this one or else you'll be confused.

To all of my returning readers, I'm very glad you were interested in continuing reading this series! (A series, whoa!) Compared to the first, this won't be as gory and bloody. You're welcome. But it won't be all rainbows and unicorns either. Consider it a gothic unicorn, no, a thestral- dark but lovable. That's it. Genres may change, idk yet. Same with the horrible summary.

So, I had this awesome idea to coordinate DW tracks to scenes in the story and tell you guys when to play what track but… it proved too time consuming to sift through. It would have been awesome but you can independently listen to the DW OST as you read along to get into the atmosphere, if you want… Anywho.

As a forewarning, the updates might be (ha! will be) slow due to work at Uni as well as the lack of a concrete plot at the moment. It's still pretty abstract but I have a direction! Just read and let me know what you think. I'm open to suggestions. :D

Er... Geronimo!

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><p><strong>A Dying Dream<strong>

Chapter One: Running From Phantoms

_12-19-11_

_It's about …two in the morning and I can't sleep, as per usual. Obviously. I've filled this book with more rubbish than actual decent entries as of late. I'm going to need a new book soon. It's been such shit these past few months. Aside from the lack of torture (something you don't say everyday), things haven't changed much. Well. That's not counting the great dose of paranoia I've come down with recently. _

_What's worse? __Thinking__ something's watching you or __knowing __something's watching you? ...Or not being able to tell the difference?_

_Sometimes, I really think I'm going balmy. But that's the Catch 22; a crazy person doesn't know they're crazy. So what in the bleeding hell am I?_

_Cold weather is constant now since we're well into winter. I guess it gives me a reason to wear long sleeves. I'm still steamed that some old scars got left behind. What good is amazingly fast healing if it only does a half arse job? I know, I really shouldn't complain. I'm alive, aren't I? I've tried healing myself again but, alas, I no longer have super brain powers. They seemed to leave as soon as **he** did. Which is more than a fair trade, I think. _

_Like I said before, it's pretty cold. A snow storm is supposed to hit Brentford next week so I should prepare for the idiocy that is undoubtedly going to ensure. I swear, people act like they've never seen snow before and go into a blind panic, rushing to buy food and supplies. And here they already were with their running about doing their holiday shopping and being obnoxiously cheerful, I didn't think they could get any worse. Surprise, surprise. _

_Waitressing isn't the job for me. The people are almost always aggro and with the deadly combination of the impeding storm with holiday hysteria, they'll be much more intolerable. I just might quit. Actually, I'm astonished I've made it this long without ramming a roller skate up someone's-_

Miranda stopped writing and threw down her pen. The sound of her fine-point pen scratching against paper had soothed her, lulling her into a serene mood but as the night passed, however, Miranda began to find the sound rather irritating.

Sighing heavily, she put her face in her hands, elbows resting on the table. She sighed again, opening her eyes and leaning back in her wooden chair, lazily glaring at her open diary. Bored out of her mind, she shifted her gaze to her mug of tea that went cold long ago. She rapidly drummed her nails on the table then stopped.

This was maddening. This was just stupid. Miranda resisted the urge of slamming her head on the table and stood quickly, nearly toppling the chair over. She went into her room and a few moments later, came out with her trainers on. Time to run, she thought, as always.

Miranda let the glass doors of Ellsworth Flats shut quietly behind her. Her breath came out as a small cloud before her face, warming her nose slightly. For a moment, she considered going back for a coat but reasoned it'd be too much once her blood got moving. She started jogging in no particular direction, just as a warm up. Recently, her nightly jogs became longer as she found herself more and more restless. Her insomnia grew so bad one night that she ran all the way to London, a good twelve kilos, at least, and returned with the rising sun.

After a few minutes, she couldn't feel the chill of the winter air and she could barely hear the crunch of strangling leaves under her feet. Once comfortable, she broke the pace of her jog as she sped into a steady run. Miranda shut her eyes for a moment, trying to calm her mind. Running was supposed to be a release, a way to relieve her tension but as of late, it hasn't been as effective. Now it just seemed as if she were running from something.

Miranda found herself sprinting down a road, having left the familiar pavements of Brentford. She followed the main road, making sure to stick to the sides in case any cars came along. Even with the streetlamps, she felt uneasy in the dark. Of course, her brief but terrifying history with streetlights a few months ago didn't improve her disposition.

At one point, Miranda entered Chiswick, her typical indication to turn around and head home but tonight she kept going. She ran down Wellesley Road, the buildings and parked cars passing as a blur. Again the overwhelming feeling of paranoia befell her. She could feel intense eyes boring into her back and it may have been her imagination but a cold spectral hand seemed poised ready to close around her ankles. This only spurred her faster, urging her to keep moving despite her protesting limbs.

A familiar feeling arose in her mind, a nagging twinge telling her to turn around. She refused, as she always did. She never looked back for the fear of there actually being something behind her, chasing her. Sometimes, she could feel the solid presence of an entity inches from her back and despite her fervent disbelief, she couldn't quite bring herself to embrace it. She lived on the verge of knowing what plagued her but whether it be monster or mirage, neither truth would bring her relief. Instead, propelled by anxiety and fear, she ran faster, trying to dispel the iron grip of fear from her chest.

Miranda suddenly felt herself falling forward, having tripped over her own feet. The impact upon the pavement took the air from her lungs and sent a shock through her body. She was fortunate her teeth hadn't hit the cement but she could already tell she'd have a few bruises by the next day.

A breeze washed over her, chilling her sweat-coated skin and making her shiver. Miranda lay still on the pavement, her heart racing. The feeling of being watched hadn't left her, it had actually gotten worse. Don't look, don't look, she chanted to herself, don't look. Something was there, she knew it. She was positive. Don't look, don't look, she repeated. There was a scratching noise some ways behind her and Miranda quickly rolled onto her back to finally face it.

There was nothing. No. Her eyes caught sight of movement; a single leaf scraping across the road, caught in the wind. She resisted sighing as she shut her eyes. Miranda picked herself off the ground, wincing at her sore ribs and glanced around. She had either imagined being followed or the thing had disappeared without a trace.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered aloud.

Miranda crossed her arms over her chest, trying to retain her body heat as the cool air started to worm through her clothes. She considered heading home but ruled it out quickly. For some reason, she felt she should stay a while longer.

She made it a point to keep from shuffling her trainers on the pavement, trying not to disturb the stillness of the night. Miranda aimlessly walked down the block, warily glancing at the dark unfamiliar buildings. It was some obscene hour in the morning, explaining why all the shops were locked up and lifeless, their dim windows staring blankly as Miranda's reflection passed by.

The illumination from the street posts provided just enough light to see by but not enough to feel comfortable walking under. In the distance, Miranda could make out two lights, small and red, distinctly separate from the street lamps. She moved closer towards them, curious as to their origin.

As she approached, Miranda saw that the lights were flickering candles, seen from behind a pane of a stained glass window. A church, she thought, standing before the towering building. She paused a moment, then spurred by the rush of wind, began to walk towards the entrance.

Miranda hadn't been a pious person in many years. She had a moderately religious upbringing and had taken it very seriously, but all that changed after she woke from her coma. In her childhood, she prayed for her Nightmare Man to go away but he never did. After that, she prayed for a guardian angel to keep her safe in her dreams but none came. In her teens, she prayed for just a single night of peaceful sleep but, of course, it never came either. After that, Miranda didn't pray anymore; her parents would attend Sunday mass but she never came. Never again had she set foot in a church until now.

A slow groan escaped the heavy wooden door as Miranda pushed it open, however, it was silent when it shut behind her. The air was thick and warm, the smell of melted wax and a subtle incense hung in the room like a dense unseen fog. It was relatively dark inside, save for a few clusters of candles lining the tall elaborate windows. The church was empty but it felt as if it were occupied.

She took a few steps into the church, her footfalls making no sound on the polished redwood floor. Despite the comforting warmth, Miranda shivered as a chill ran up her spine. Undeterred, she cautiously continued down the length of the aisle towards the rear of the church, vacant pews on either side of her. She stopped just before the alter, its ornately carved marble covered by a plain white cloth. Behind the alter were three expansive windows, depicting who she figured to be saints. The windows covered nearly the whole of the back wall and reached up to the ceiling; she figured they'd look nicer during the day when they weren't dark and looming.

Miranda stood there, uncertain as to why she even bothered to stop in the cathedral. She glanced up at the high ceiling, taking in the large columns and expansive arches with a distant appreciation then sobered shortly after. Shaking her head, she decided to leave but just as she began to turn away, something caught her eye for the briefest of moments that made her stop dead in her tracks.

On the leftmost window amid the puzzle of stained glass, sat a small image nestled in the bottom left corner. The modest depiction would, by most, go unnoticed but the sight of it, so suddenly, hit Miranda with all the force of a thousand angry gales of wind. Her knees went weak didn't buckle just as her breath lodged in her throat. The image that drove her to such distress and shock was a small blue box seated at the feet of the saints, a small halo around its top.

Miranda took a few steps back, her eyes fixed on the blue box, _his_ box. The feeling of paranoia was on her again like an unshakable shroud. She felt eyes on her back, boring into her skin and bones. Slowly, painfully, her own eyes edged around her peripheral. She nervously glanced around the church to find she was still alone. And that is what scared her more than anything.

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><p>AN 2: Useless crap, I forced myself to look up so everything fits: I've officially stationed Miranda in Brentford (real place in England.) Brentford is west of London, about 8 miles(12ish km). It's also in west of Chiswick (where the Nobles live) and east of "Leadworth". Okay, I'm pretty sure Leadworth isn't a real place (don't exterminate me if I'm wrong). But some of the Leadworth scenes were filmed in LLandaff so I used that as a reference. Told you it was useless. But I'm anal about unimportant details like that.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

AN: This was a faster update than I thought. Of course, I'm neglecting my homework to get this done… Ahem. Ignore any typos; I'm always super excited to post these. Story's going to pick up, promise. Let me know what think!

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><p>Chapter Two: Looking in All the Wrong Places<p>

The morning sun arose; forcing its way through Miranda's parted curtains. She remained still, seated on her sunken mattress, staring at her laptop screen as she had been doing for the past three hours since she returned from her jog. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she paused in thought.

None of her searches brought up anything useful. Simply searching the name 'Doctor' brought up only medical related persons, as expected. The terms 'Police Public Call Box', 'phone box', ' blue box', 'magically bigger on the inside box' and every imaginable variation were just as dead ended. It wasn't until she combined both the keywords of 'Doctor' and 'blue box' that something semi-related came up.

The website was headed with the question 'Doctor Who?' Below it was an unfocused picture of a man with short dark hair amid a crowd of people. Under the picture, it asked 'Have you seen this man' and gave a link to contact the site owner. Miranda pursed her lips and angrily pushed the laptop away from her. She begrudgingly rolled out of bed, dragging her feet to the kitchen.

Miranda forced herself into her morning routine yet still, all efforts of pushing her thoughts from the mystery of the Doctor were futile. Sighing heavily, she filled a teapot with water, put in three spoonfuls of tealeaves and set it on the stove, forgetting entirely to turn on the burner.

She sat at her wooden table to brood. That police box was unmistakable; how many were in existence? Not many, she mused; it hadn't been until her encounter with the Doctor that she'd ever seen or heard of one. The rarity of the sight was obvious but the fact that she, herself, saw a police box _again_ only in the span of a few months seemed hardly coincidental.

As her mind churned, another persisting thought resounded in her mind that she could no longer ignore. Police call boxes didn't come to Britain until 1891, the first being in Glasgow, a long way from Chiswick. They were red cast-iron structures and hexagonal in shape, nothing like the Doctor's. It wasn't until the sixties that they started to resemble the one the Doctor had. So, that being said, it would be literally impossible for there to be an image of the Doctor's style police box in a window of St. Marie's Cathedral unless it had been built in the sixties; something Miranda highly doubted. It just didn't make sense…

She blinked, snapping out of her deep rumination. She hurried into her room and retrieved her laptop, settling back into her chair.

"Saint… Marie's…Cathedral," Miranda said aloud as she typed, "Plus… Chiswick… Plus… Blue Box."

She hit enter and bit her lip as the results came up. She clicked on the first website dedicated to the church. Miranda scanned the site and looked through its tabs but there was nothing that mentioned a blue box. She sighed, deciding to see when it was built anyway. She clicked the section about its history.

_St. Marie's Cathedral was first built in 1822 and served as a convent for the Sisters of Perpetual Mercy. It was not until 1875 that the convent was converted into a church and made open to public services. One of the most-_

Miranda was already opening a new window where she frantically typed in 'St. Marie's Convent in Chiswick' then as an afterthought, added 'blue box'. She felt her heart beat faster as the results came up. The first site had all of her terms in bold. She clicked on it.

**The Legend of St. Marie's**

_It was reported by the Sisters of Perpetual Mercy in 1870 that they were directly involved in a battle of good and evil. The general consensus states that the sisters claimed their convent was a battleground between a sinister demon and a man sent from God. The Mother Superior, Sr. Mary Elizabetha, described the demon as "having come down from the heavens although its birth was clearly in the fires of hell". The demon was said to have hid itself in the convent, attacking any who crossed its path. The sisters' account states their prayers were answered when a blue box appeared and a wingless angel emerged. The man was later named by the Sisters of Perpetual Mercy as the "Sainted Physician". They claim he was able to drive the demon back to hell by the will of God and was never seen again, himself and the blue box vanishing without a trace. _

Physician? There was no way… It was imposs- She shook her head, stopping before she even finished the thought. There was no way that it was him or even his police box. It's not like_ he_ was painted in the stained glass… For some reason, she didn't quite believe her own excuses.

Her hand was shaking as she did another search, 'box' plus 'history'. There were a number of mixed results; it'd take her some time to sift through them but she had a feeling that something important was buried in them. An hour passed and she found nothing linking her to the Doctor. Curiously enough, there was a depiction of a man and woman on either side of a 1960's style police box on an ancient marble slab found in Rome but the man didn't even remotely resemble the Doctor. In the archaeological column she found it in, it had said the figures were seen as gods as the slab was surrounded with ceremonial offerings. It said nothing about a doctor or a physician.

She tried another search, 'Doctor' plus 'history' plus 'mystery'. Lazily, Miranda scrolled down the results, becoming frustrated until something caught her eye. _My Mysterious Doctor. _She clicked.

_The 18__th__ century painting, My Mysterious Doctor, was created by Lady Matilda, daughter of a nobleman in the King's court. The central figure on the canvas, suspected to be a secret love interest of Lady Matilda, was never identified, however, it is stated that he was a doctor of some nature. Some historians theorized that the figure may have been the royal doctor or an apprentice. _

_When her father found the pair together, the supposed doctor was sentenced to the guillotine and imprisoned in the Tower of London. Two days after his incarceration, it was reported that a large seemingly magical sphere was said to have carried the doctor off and was never heard from again. After this, it is believed that Lady Matilda added the word 'mysterious' to her painting title yet curiously enough, left it unfinished._

Underneath the brief description was a photograph of the painting in question. Miranda stared disbelievingly.

"It's him…" she whispered, eyes glues to his face, "It's the Doctor."

Lo and behold, the Doctor stood proudly on the canvas holding a trident, surrounded by cherubs and bright clouds. He was also completely naked, save for a crown and a flowing cloth tastefully shielding certain areas from view. Miranda felt her cheeks grow warm then realized the heating must be on higher than usual.

She x-ed the window and sat back in her chair, appearing quite disturbed. That painting was from the 1700's, she thought, How could the Doctor be in a three hundred year old painting? There was no denying it. It was definitely him. But how? Either he looked extremely good for his age or he wasn't from the 1700's at all. But that would make him a time traveler which was… impossible! Miranda forcefully shut her laptop and stood, brows furrowed and lips tightly pursed.

"Everything about him is impossible!" she shouted, "Can't I get a straight answer once? Just _once_?"

What was she even trying to accomplish? It didn't matter who he was nor where he had been, did it? He was out of her life and that was probably a good thing. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but wonder about him. How could someone leave so many stones unturned? The only leads she had found, after hours of searching, were dead ends. Miranda gritted her teeth and tried to calm down. When that failed, she decided to get ready for work. Once in her horrific pink uniform, she made her way to the lift. She stopped seeing Clover Benfield and a dark haired man waiting for it as well; both looking quite cross.

"Since when do you _hate _my perfume?" Clover demanded, "You said it was lovely!"

The man sighed, "I don't hate it… I just wish you'd wear something else."

Clover crossed her arms. "And you haven't even called me Clover-bear in the past week! Do you not love me anymore? Is that it, Tom?"

Miranda cringed at her shrill voice and started in the opposite direction as Tom started to reply; she didn't want to be trapped in the lift with them. Taking the stairs cost Miranda seven minutes and her scattered thoughts making her turn at the wrong block cost her another seven. Consequently, she found herself arriving late at _Annie's_, the 50's themed diner she worked at. When she came in the back kitchen entrance, her hyperactive co-worker, Laura practically jumped on her.

"Andy, I thought you weren't showing!" Laura exclaimed, ignoring the annoyed looks of the cooks.

"Sorry," Miranda mumbled, "And it's just Miranda…"

Laura smiled, "Riiight, keep forgettin'. But anyway, you won't believe it! Susie's won the lotto! The whole jackpot! She phoned me last night; quit in the morning!"

Miranda internally sighed, "Brilliant… I guess we're picking up her shifts then?" She took off her trainers and began to put on her work required roller skates.

Laura's smile grew wider and continued, "No, that's not the half of it! You see, we got a replacement straight away before the ad even went out! Some bloke just strolled in looking for work."

"A bloke?" Miranda repeated, "I thought we were only supposed to have girls as waitresses?"

Nodding, Laura explained in her matter-of-fact way. "Apparently, it'd be gender discrimination. Plus, we needed the help anyways; Boss couldn't be too choosey. The new guy seems familiar though… might've went to school with him or somethin'."

Just then, the sound of roller skates grew louder, the kitchen doors opened and an all too familiar voice rang out, "That's two specials, a number four, hold the cheese, a number thirteen, a soup of the day and an extra side of chips!"

Miranda froze; her blood ceased flowing as her heart stopped momentarily. Mouth gaping and eyes wide with shock, she turned to find the one person she least expected to see. Clad in black slacks, a pink button up shirt, a matching paper hat and a red bow tie was the Doctor, grinning mischievously.

"Miranda Cole! I had absolutely no idea you worked here. Small world," the Doctor winked then paused, "Relatively speaking, of course..."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: This one took awhile. Thanks to all those who reviewed. Your support helped this chapter move along! As always, do excuse typos; I read through these at least five times before I post yet they still escape me. It's not until months later when I look over it that I can see them. Must be a perception filter of some kind... Can't think of anything else to say so here we go.

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><p>Chapter Three: The Stupid Bloody Idiot<p>

"This is such a giant coincidence! Who would've thought we'd be working in the same place? Seriously, all of Brentford- what were the odds? Well, four hundred thirty-two to one, but that's beside the point," the Doctor grinned then looked serious; "Did I mention that I had absolutely no idea you worked here? Because I didn't… really."

Miranda stared at him, speechless and feeling light-headed. The Doctor, of course, didn't notice her stupor and kept rambling. "This is brilliant. Haven't been on skates since the birthing ceremony for the elder Queen Rotonia on Shuttlecraft seven and a half- well, it was just Shuttlecraft seven then. Still," he said, skating over next to Miranda, ending with a little spin. He leaned against the counter, trying to look cool, "Not too shabby, eh?"

Laura laughed. "Wonder what other skills of yours aren't too shabby," she smiled.

The Doctor stared for a moment then realized she was flirting with him. "Oh! Oooh," the Doctor waggled a finger at her, "Naughty waitress, you."

"Yeah, you know it," Laura winked as she went into the other room, eyes still on the Doctor.

Miranda shook her head, trying to grasp the situation. She turned to the Doctor who was still making odd faces at the door.

"What are you doing here?" she asked hesitantly.

The Doctor looked at her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Waiting on tables, of course, though not at the moment. It's a bit slow this morning."

"No," Miranda said firmly, "What are you doing _here_?"

"Oh," he said simply, suddenly looking uncomfortable, "I have to talk to you."

A knot formed in Miranda's stomach. "A-about… what?"

The Doctor glanced at some of the kitchen staff then back to Miranda's apprehensive face. He lowered his voice as he continued, "After everything that's happened; you deserve an explanation, at least. I should have told you before you left but you had been through so much. All of these months without knowing… it must have been hell."

Miranda ducked her head, not responding.

"If you want, we can talk after your shift," he suggested.

She nodded, unable to speak thanks to the lump dodged in her throat. The Doctor gave her a terse smile before going back into the main room. Miranda was left shaking, a million thoughts racing through her head.

Her shift passed as a swift blur, only pausing when she did something embarrassing such as mixing up a table's order… five times in a row. Having the Doctor there was making her a nervous wreck. She could feel him watching her, even when he busy being an energetic and overly helpful waiter. He'd just smile whenever she'd catch him staring blatantly. Miranda's anxiety and bad nerves had caused her a number of clumsy mishaps: dumping an omelet on a man, dropping and subsequently breaking a tray of dishes, falling into a customer's lap (whose wife was very cross), tripping over air and toppling to the ground.

She looked over at the Doctor talking to an elderly couple. Whatever he said made them laugh, whereas the Doctor just smiled at their amusement. These people think he's harmless, she thought to herself, they've never seen the smirk on that face when they're about to have their flesh carved up and their life torn apart. These people have only ever seen a smile on that face, _his_ face, whereas I've seen him do unspeakably evil things and laugh. Miranda knew they were two people, somehow, but she couldn't help but associate one with the other. She clenched her teeth. These people never had him standing over them with a meat cleaver in one hand and the most demonic expression on his face, she thought angrily. Why have I then? Why couldn't I be ignorant and see no sadistic grin beyond his smile? Why did this-

"Miss, I asked for a refill of my coffee!"

Miranda gasped and shut her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself. "Sorry, sir," Miranda said quietly, grabbing a pot of coffee.

Don't fall, she told herself as she skated over to the man. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Doctor. Ignore him and don't fall, she thought. It wasn't until she tried pouring the coffee that she realized her hands were trembling violently. After she missed his mug twice, he took the pitcher from her and poured it himself. Red in the face with embarrassment, she rolled back behind the counter. She hung her head, trying to ignore the whispering from the other customers.

"Are you feeling alright?" the Doctor asked suddenly, appearing behind her.

She jumped, involuntarily releasing the coffee pot. Shards of glass and scalding hot liquid streaked across the floor, earning an unnecessary gasp from the people nearby. Stupid bloody idiot, she mentally yelled at herself. Miranda cursed under her breath and knelt to pick up the pieces of glass, ignoring the Doctor's warning of cutting her hands.

"Miranda," her boss, Mr. Walton, started, "Maybe you should take the day off."

"No, I'm sorry. It won't happen again," she replied, still picking through the mess, "I'll be more careful."

"I insist," Mr. Walton frowned, "You've been off all day. Go home before you cost me more customers."

Miranda sighed and made her way to the back, slipping once. The Doctor turned to Mr. Walton, "I think I should walk her home. To be safe."

Mr. Walton frowned then nodded. "Clean this mess up first," he ordered before walking off. The Doctor looked from the puddle of coffee to Mr. Walton's retreating back then to the door Miranda left through. After a moment of indecision, he reluctantly grabbed a mop then smiled as a thought struck him.

He chuckled to himself, "Fez."

After the Doctor cleaned up and dashed out of the diner, Miranda was already a good ways down the street when he spotted her. "Miranda!" he called after her. She kept walking as if she didn't hear him. The Doctor ran until he was beside her. "Miranda," he repeated, "Can we talk somewhere or… would you rather we didn't at all?"

Miranda stopped suddenly, waiting for the people around them to pass by before she spoke.

"No. It's just…" she said quickly, "I didn't think… never mind." Miranda sighed, frustrated with her inability to say how she felt.

The Doctor watched her carefully, picking up on her distress. "We don't have to talk if you're not comfortable, Miranda. Really. I just thought you'd like to know more about what happened."

"I do," she affirmed, "We can talk. I want to."

The Doctor nodded, still seeing the uncertainty in her eyes. "Is there somewhere you'd like to go?" he inquired, hoping to put her at ease.

She paused for a moment. Somewhere public, she thought immediately, yet secluded enough to have a private conversation. "The park," she decided, her eyes unfocused.

It was barely noon so the children were still at school, leaving the park relatively empty save a few joggers and dog walkers. Miranda headed towards a bench but stopped as the Doctor plopped down on a swing set. Pursing her lips slightly, she eyed the broken swing on the end then reluctantly took the swing beside him. For a moment, neither said anything, Miranda staring at the ground and the Doctor staring at the cloudless sky.

"He called himself The Valeyard," the Doctor stated suddenly.

Miranda turned towards him, apprehension and eagerness written on her face, but the Doctor kept his eyes on the sky.

"He was me, well, part of me anyway. The darkest, most malicious part of my mind. Every evil thought and negative feeling I've ever had and given a consciousness."

Miranda sat there stiffly, gripping the cold chain of the swing so tightly that her knuckles were losing color. She was shaking again, taking in every word that fell from his mouth.

The Doctor took her silence as a cue to go on. "It's hard to believe, I know, but that dark side freed himself from me in the future. As his own being, the Valeyard wreaked havoc against me but I was able to stop him a long time ago. It's a long story but after… _stuff_, I was sort of erased from existence... My friend managed to bring me back by remembering me but she remembered _him _too… She met him briefly. It was nothing like what you…"

He paused for a moment, still staring straight ahead; from the corner of his vision, he could see her looking at the ground. "It wasn't her fault, Amy's. She didn't know what had happened. The possibility didn't even cross my mind; there were no signs either… The Valeyard wasn't alive physically, merely a disembodied mind that needed a host. He was thrown back into being on the night I first met Amy as a little girl, when her memories of me began… and when your memories of the Valeyard began."

The Doctor turned to Miranda who had been silent the whole time. Her face was pallid, her expression blank as if she was thinking too hard for her emotions to surface. He was surprised when she spoke, "You said the… Valeyard breaks free _in the future_… so, then he's still part of you _now_. He's still inside you… isn't he?"

Miranda finally tore her gaze from her shoes to meet the Doctor's eyes. His expression was soft and melancholy as was his voice. "Everyone has both good and ill intentions at times, a light and dark side if you will. It's how we respond to those impulses that make us who we are. The Valeyard is my dark half. Yes, he's part of me but I keep him caged. After seeing everything he's capable of… what_ I'm_ capable of, I'll never act on his behalf and make sure he stays buried."

Miranda was quiet again, thinking. She shifted her gaze from his eyes to his bow tie. "That police box of yours, is it a time machine?" she asked him.

His brows rose, the question throwing him off guard. "Oh," he uttered, surprised at her swift change of subject as well as how accurate her guess was, "Well, yes. How'd you know?"

Miranda looked away from him entirely and shrugged. "You mentioned things happening in the future and um…" she trailed off, deciding to withhold the research she did on him. Still, she couldn't stop her curiosity from surfacing. "Have you ever been to St. Marie's er, convent?"

He made a perplexed face, leaning back slightly, hands holding the swing's chains. "Can't say I have, no. Not yet anyway. Why do you ask? Is it something to look forward to? No, hold on! Don't tell me. Spoilers. Wait, since when do I say 'spoilers'? I don't. Forget I said 'spoilers'. _Still_, don't tell me."

His silly rambling was lost on Miranda as she frowned, not entirely listening. Miranda licked her lips nervously then spoke softly, "If you have a time machine, couldn't you stop your friend from bringing him back…?"

The Doctor knew that question would come up sooner or later, he had hoped later. He sighed, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees. It was difficult, he found, to keep from inspecting his hands but forced himself to look Miranda in the eyes.

"That's a very delicate moment, when he and I were brought back… A moment that should be left untouched. I mean, my showing up before I technically existed could consequentially interrupt Amy's flow of memories. She can't remember me if I'm standing in front of her, she'd just be seeing me. That could potentially wipe me from existence… _again_."

Miranda's frown deepened, "But… What if I went instead of you? I could scare her or something _after_ she remembers you but _before_ she remembers him…"

"He was brought back due to a memory, a split second afterthought. It'd be near impossible to pinpoint. Any sooner or later than that precise second and we could have a lot of trouble on our hands. Again, I could be erased from existence, possibly causing a temporal paradox since I would've brought you back in time to change events," he paused, "Sort of like the grandfather paradox, only there's no grandfather. No, Amy would be the grandfather… Never mind, forget I said it. Either way, we can't interfere with that moment. I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous."

Miranda bit the inside of her cheek to keep from tearing up. He could erase it all. He could fix everything. There _had_ to be a way… "Couldn't you stop him though? Couldn't you stop him from getting inside my mind?"

He gave her a sad smile. "I'm sorry, Miranda. I'm so sorry."

She hung her head at his reply, her hope fading. She shut her eyes, putting a hand to her forehead as he continued.

"You're the only person that I know for certain that could defeat him, Miranda. The only person that I know is strong enough to withstand his brutality. If it wasn't you, the Valeyard would find someone else, someone that most likely wouldn't survive. He could have killed hundreds before I found him,_ if_ I found him. I'm sorry but there's no other way."

She nodded numbly, trying to force the lump from her throat. "Okay," she squeaked.

"Miranda, I really am sorry," the Doctor continued, "If I could prevent this all from happening, I would."

"No," she cut him off, lifting her head, "I understand… It was stupid of me to hope that… I mean, if it meant making some innocent person go through what I did, knowingly destroying their life like mine was… Even if it saved me, I couldn't… I couldn't do it."

The Doctor smiled at her words. "Miranda Cole," he breathed, his smile spreading, "You never cease to amaze me."

She blinked then quickly looked away from him, feeling nervous suddenly. "I-is there anything else you wanted to tell me?" Miranda asked meekly.

It was the Doctor's turn to look away. His thoughts went back to that night in 1998, when Miranda was pushed off the roof of her house. He was there yet he never saw her attacker. It was a mystery but one that he wouldn't leave as such. He had to find the culprit, he had to know _why_. She played a key role in uncovering the truth and could help in solving the mystery. The Doctor also knew that he'd have to tell her eventually; she had every right to know.

A frown completed Miranda's uncertain expression. "Doctor? Was there something…?"

He gave her a small smile. "No," he replied, "Nothing at all."

His tone made her question his honestly but she didn't press further. A pair of joggers passed by, making her aware of their surroundings. She realized how odd they must look, sitting on swings wearing gaudy pink uniforms. She wrapped her arms around her middle, feeling exposed.

"I should probably go…" she announced as if seeking permission.

"Right!" the Doctor exclaimed, jumping to his feet. She followed suit and uncertainly stood before him. Her mind quickly flashed to the previous night. The feeling of unease that haunted her. She stared at him, thinking of telling him of her worries. Perhaps he could help…? He smiled, appearing slightly awkward, "Can I walk you to your flat?"

Miranda shook her head, tossing her thoughts away. "No," she replied quickly, then added, "I'm fine."

The Doctor nodded, giving her a faint smile. He watched her leave, her frilly pink dress swishing in the wind. The chilled breeze ruffled his fringe, blowing it from his knowing eyes. "Goodbye, Miranda Cole," he murmured but she was already out of earshot.

Stupid bloody idiot, Miranda mentally scolded herself as she entered Ellsworth Flats, you should have told him! Right, _Him_, the Doctor, the bloody _time traveler_! Why was nothing simple? She knew the explanation for what had happened to her couldn't be simple, or logical for the matter. It was unheard of. Even her parents thought she was a nutter. Still do, she noted bitterly. Honestly, the time travel and weird yin yang talk wasn't the most farfetched notion she could've thought up. For awhile she had concluded that the Doctor and the Nightmare –er- _Valeyard _were psychic twins of some nature and that had seemed totally believable to her. Of course his explanation would be better compared to that. Even without the reoccurring police box in history that she had came across, she probably would've believed him. Maybe I _am_ a nutter, she thought. She sighed audibly.

As Miranda stepped off the lift, loud sobbing met her ears. It was Clover Benfield, she saw, sitting outside 409 in an undignified and unClover-like manner. On instinct, Miranda tried to duck back into the lift but the crying woman spotted her first.

"Miranda?" she croaked, "Is that you?"

Miranda mentally cursed before walking towards her. "Yeah… Um, what's wrong?" she questioned, feeling obligated to ask.

Clover dabbed at her face with a mascara stained napkin. "It's Tom… my boyfriend. You've seen him around? Tall, dark hair… handsome," she gulped, "He's been acting strange, not like himself."

Miranda started to fidget, her thumb unconsciously running over the jagged edges of her bitten nails.

"He's like another person, really. I feel like I don't even know him anymore. He's been like this ever since he got his new job."

If Clover didn't look and sound so pathetic, Miranda probably would have left. The blonde had always been rude and went out of her way to torment Miranda so it was understandable that she didn't want to listen to her moan. Miranda didn't want to be there.

"I think he might be cheating!" Clover sobbed.

Miranda _really_ didn't want to be there.

"I think it's someone at his work, a nurse, I guess," gushed Clover, her cheeks flushing red with anger, "I found a cinnamon candy in his pocket!"

Miranda stared at the distraught blonde.

"He hates candies," she explained, "It must be his secret lover's! But I'll never know! They know what I look like there at his work and _he _won't tell me…" She stopped then looked at Miranda as if first seeing her. "Oh my gosh! Would you do it for me?"

"What?" Just run, Miranda told herself. Run to your room and don't answer her… then avoid her until one of you moves, or dies.

"I know we aren't good friends," Clover began. Or friends at all, thought Miranda. "But I'm desperate! You're the last person I'd ask, really! But Sandra's sick with the flu and Robby's with his fiancé in the Alps and Tina, well, she's Tina and Beck wouldn't tell me truth and-"

"I get it," Miranda interrupted, growing irritated, "What exactly are you asking?"

Clover blinked then started gushing tears again, "Just spy on Tom at his work for me. Let me know if there's a-another woman."

Miranda held back a sigh, suspicious of her waterworks display. "Alright," she said reluctantly, "But just once, okay?"

"Okay!" Clover beamed, springing to her feet, enveloping Miranda in a bone crushing hug, "Thank you so much, Miranda!"

Miranda pulled herself away from the blonde, silently cursing herself. Why didn't you just say no, she scolded, you stupid bloody idiot!


	4. Chapter 4

Random fun fact that's more useless than fun: This "episode's" plotline was originally written for a fanfic I was writing for 10. Actually most of them are but that fanfic never took off so… waste not, want not? Did I say that right…? Oh well.

Let me know if this chapter translates clearly. It makes sense in my head but I don't know if it'll make sense in someone else's. Blah. Enjoy, or endure. ;]

Btw, Happy Halloween!

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><p>Chapter Four: Seven Minutes in Hell<p>

The Doctor stared at the monitor before him. His brows knitted together as he studied the TARDIS surveillance video as he had been doing for an extensive amount of time. The scene ended and with a frown he rewound it again.

_It was dark out where the TARDIS had materialized. Ahead was a small girl in pajamas, bent over a children's telescope, headphones covering her ears. The Doctor stepped from the TARDIS, his back to the camera._

_The girl, nine year old Miranda Cole, walked over to the ledge of her roof. Her head tilted back as she looked up at the night sky. The Doctor hesitantly came up behind her. His arm stretched towards her and stopped as he hesitated. In his moment of indecision, Miranda was pushed forward by some invisible force. _

_She let out a scream as her body lurched and she disappeared over the ledge. The Doctor rushed forward to look over the side of the roof. He spun around towards the camera, eyes darting to and fro. A breeze snapped him from his shock and he hurried towards the camera. The whine of his sonic screwdriver was heard as he scanned the area. He checked the results before he backed out of frame and into the TARDIS._

The Doctor hit 'stop' and replayed a section, zooming in as close as he could without blurring the image.

_The Doctor's hand was in mid air, very close to Miranda's back but not touching it. He didn't move, neither did she but the fabric of her pajamas did. _

It wasn't wind. The Doctor knew that for sure. He remembered the air being warm and still. There was only a gust of wind _after _she had fallen. He looked more closely at the fabric's movement.

_The back of her pajama shirt dipped in slightly, just below where his hand would have connected. The impression was large, about twice as big than a human hand. _

So either a very large creature pushed her or… a human sized creature pushed her with both hands. But how could they stand so close to him and he not sense their presence, let alone see them! The Doctor let out a frustrated growl and shut off the monitor.

"What am I missing?" he asked, stalking away from the console, "I'm missing something! Something _literally_ right in front of me! But I'm too _thick_ to see it!"

He ran a hand down his face and pulled a pained expression as if hurt to not understand. He plopped down into a jump seat and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"There must be something wrong with me," he concluded, "Something went terribly wrong during my regeneration process. Obviously. Because I've never _ever_ _been_ _this_ _thick_!"

After a pause of silence, the Doctor moaned, resting his head on the railing behind him. "Honestly though. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have left that roof until I knew what pushed her… Because now, I'd be crossing into my own timeline if I went back... Not good. I mean I could go _after_ I leave but whatever was there would be long gone… And I can't go _before_ I get there because I _will_ get there eventually, er again. Two TARDISes, two Doctors, one roof. Not good. _Very_ not good," he paused in his monologue, "I haven't mucked up this badly since the second- GAH!"

He leapt off of the seat, clutching at his chest. After his initial shock, he pulled a black wallet from his tweed jacket. He flipped it open to look curiously at the psychic paper.

"A distress signal?" he asked it, raising a brow, "Wasn't expecting that."

* * *

><p>The fallen leaves on the ground rustled as a gust swept over the flat land. Miranda crossed her arms in response to the cold, her navy military-esque trench warming all but below her knees.<p>

"What in the bleeding hell have I gotten myself into?" Miranda muttered under her breath as she walked down the path towards Hillside Homes which, she found, was ironically hill-less.

It was the retirement home where Clover's boyfriend, Tom Dover, worked at as a chief. Miranda somewhat hoped she'd be able to confirm Clover's suspicion of his cheating, not to cause her any harm, even if she deserved it, but simply to spare her the married name of 'Clover Dover'. Then again, Miranda reasoned, such an idiotic name would befit such a daft woman.

Miranda couldn't believe she was doing this, actually _helping_ that sorry git whom has been nothing but a pain in her side. Well, she has changed somewhat, Miranda noted, around the time when the Doctor first turned up. He might've had something to do with it, actually; they _did_ have an encounter, one that left Clover with the bizarre impression that he was Miranda's boyfriend who was in dire need of anger management. Miranda snorted before pulling open the glass doors of Hillside Homes.

A two pleasant looking women sat behind a desk, a blonde and a ginger. The former regarded her briefly before smiling as Miranda approached. "Hello, welcome to Hillside Homes," she grinned, "How may I help you?"

Miranda hesitantly smiled back, appearing more ill than cheerful. "Hi," she grimaced, "I'm looking at local retirement homes… for my gran. She's old and such… and I heard this place was er nice."

"Well it certainly is," the woman replied, "Let me give you a brochure."

The blonde rummaged through a drawer before handing a pamphlet to Miranda who pocketed it in her coat. "On that's all our special events, including daily activities, room services, and meal plans."

Miranda raised a brow, thinking on her feet. "About that," she began, "My gran has an _extensive_ allergy list. Would it be possible to talk to someone from the cooking staff?"

The woman tapped a red polished finger on her lips before replying, "We don't normally allow non-staff members in the lower levels but, I'm really not qualified to answer any allergy-related questions..." She turned to the other woman, "Do you think it's alright to let her?"

The ginger glanced at Miranda then shrugged, "Dunno, I guess."

"Okay. Well, it's nearly lunchtime but… there _might_ be someone available. Make sure you come right back. Don't go wandering."

Miranda was surprised it worked. "Sure. Which way is the kitchens?"

"Down this hall and take the lift to B1. That's B1, not B2. You'll need a card key though and here's a visitor pass. Be sure to turn them in before you leave."

Miranda nodded, "Right. Sure."

Once inside the lift, she clipped the pass on her coat then turned to the panel of buttons. All were lit except for the two basement levels. There was a slot below the panel where Miranda slid the card in and afterwards, the basement buttons lit up. Miranda hit the one labels B1 and with a groan, the lift moved downwards, beneath the building.

The doors opened silently and Miranda's nose was assaulted with the aromas of various foods, the strongest of which being cabbage. The hall was brightly lit with two metal doors on either side. Miranda entered the closest one on the right and grew nervous at seeing so many people jostling around inside. One man in a white apron caught sight of her and approached, "Can I help ya, love?"

"Oh, um, yes," she stammered, "I'm uh looking for Tom Dover?"

"Dover?" he man echoed, "Try looking in pastries. Last door on the left."

With a soft word of thanks, Miranda quickly left the room. You sounded like an idiot, she scolded, and now what? You can't exactly go up to him and ask 'Are you cheating on Clover?' This is total bullocks. I can't believe I'm doing this, she mentally groaned.

Miranda pushed open the pastries door and frowned. There was only a middle-aged woman inside; not quite the love interest type.

"Excuse me," Miranda started, "Isn't Tom Dover supposed to be here?"

The woman raised a brow, "He is. Who are you? How'd you get down here?"

"Intern," Miranda said quickly, holding up the lift card, "Supposed to be shadowing him. I was running a bit late."

"An intern? He didn't mention an intern."

Miranda started to fidget, "Em, where can I find him?"

The woman sighed, "Try the second floor. We've been short staffed so we have to deliver meals. You might as well help. Grab an apron and find Dover. He should have the food cart."

Miranda nodded and slipped a white apron over her coat; she didn't want to leave anything behind. She got back on the lift and hit the second floor button. Now I just have to avoid the woman at the desk, great. The doors opened and she saw the food cart, half emptied already. Miranda glanced around; there was no one else in the hall.

She stood there awkwardly before inching forward. Peeking into the open rooms as she went by, Miranda started wondering where Dover might be. He couldn't be far, she reasoned, the cart's still here. There was a cough to her left and she jumped.

"You must be new," an old woman called from her bed.

The small decorated nameplate beside the door read: _Janice Hopskirt_. Miranda hesitantly walked into her room. She had on a blue knitted sweater and had a matching artificial flower in her shoulder length white hair.

"Intern," Miranda stated.

"What's your name, dearie?"

"Miranda," she reluctantly replied, "Um... Do you want a lunch tray?"

"Oh no," Mrs. Hopskirt declined, "My Tommy always brings it."

"Tommy? Dover?"

The elderly woman raised a brow, "You know him?"

"Not really," she admitted, "But my… er friend does."

"He's such a sweet boy," Mrs. Hopskirt cooed, "As sweet as candy."

The woman reached to her right to grab a small tin. She opened it and took out a small red candy, wrapped up in a clear piece of plastic. Miranda nearly laughed as the old woman popped it into her mouth.

"Is that… cinnamon?" Miranda asked incredulously.

"Why yes," she replied, "Care for one?"

Miranda shook her head, "No, no… thanks. I've got be going anyway."

"Ta, dearie," the old woman grinned.

Shaking her head, Miranda left her room. Well there goes the Mystery of the Cinnamon Candy. Mission complete, she said to herself. Clover was wrong, she thought, taking the apron off and draping it over the food cart. Just then Tom Dover walked past her, lunch tray in hand, not even sparing her a glance. She watched him step into the Janice Hopskirt's room.

"How's the love of my life doing?" she heard him say.

Miranda's smile faltered slightly and her brow creased. He's joking, she told herself as she began walking back towards the room, ignoring the odd feeling in her gut. He's joking, just being nice like how people call some elderly folk young. She peeked in slightly and her mouth slowly dropped.

Miranda bolted down the hall, only stopping after she turned a corner. "They were snogging!" she whispered to herself, "They are like sixty years apart and snogging!"

She felt slightly nauseated as the mental image kept surfacing. "Ew!" she exclaimed, smacking her head in the hope to drive it from her mind. She had heard about guys having fetishes but… ew! Be rational, she thought, maybe she's rich and he's trying to get in on the will. Like that's much better. Sorry, Clover, your boyfriend's snogging grandmothers for tips. Ew, mental image!

Miranda shivered and tried to find another lift. No way was she going back past _them_. She walked by a set of large glass doors, there was some sort of aerobics going on; about five elderly tenants were inside. Just as Miranda passed, they all stopped to stare at her. Their heads turned as she went by, silently watching.

"Alright…" Miranda whispered, getting creeped out.

All of a sudden, a voice rang out over the speaker system. _"There's an unauthorized person in the building. All personal be on alert. If sighted, alert one of the staff, thank you."_

Bugger, bugger, bugger, Miranda mentally groaned. Is it even illegal to fake interest in a nursing home and wander about? Maybe. She heard footsteps behind her and bit back a curse. Miranda hurried down the hall and stopped, spotting a door. She opened it and rolled her eyes at seeing it was a broom closet. Of course it is, she thought. The footsteps grew louder, quicker and she ducked inside the closet, shutting the door quietly. Bugger, bugger, bugger.

This is undignified and juvenile, Miranda reprimanded herself then immediately clammed up as the footsteps stopped outside. Just keep going, she urged silently, keep walking, don't open-

The door whipped open and Miranda let out a shriek as did the other person. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. "Doctor?"

The Doctor gaped at her a moment before composing himself. "Miranda. What are you doing in a broom closet?" he asked.

"Um. Hiding?" she admitted.

The sound of slow footsteps came from down the hall. The Doctor glanced in their direction then gave Miranda a quick smile. "Sounds great. Think I'll join you!" he grinned dashing inside and shutting the door. A moment later, there was a small green light and a whining noise as the Doctor pointed a small tool near the doorknob. He showed me that before, Miranda thought, what'd he call it? A socket wrench or something?

She wanted to say something to break the awkward silence that settled over them then thought twice when she heard the people walking right outside the door. The footsteps were slow, some dragging over the carpet, from time to time there was a metallic clink- a walker? It's those old folk from the gym, Miranda guessed. Why in hell am I this on edge about old people? Then again, I am standing less than a foot from the Doctor, in a dark cramped closet no less.

The doorknob suddenly started to jingle as someone tried opening it. Miranda drew in a hiss of a breath through her teeth and took a step back, causing a broom or mop to hit her shoulder. A hand gently grabbed her arm; the Doctor's attempt at telling her to calm down but it only made her heart rate go up. Sensing Miranda's tension, he let go of her. She realized how close they were and how small this closet was. Miranda had never been claustrophobic but she was starting to see why people found small spaces so terrifying.

The person gave up after realizing the door was locked. Miranda still held her breath. She had to be inches from him, _inches_! That was too close for her comfort; she really, _really_ enjoyed her personal space. She heard the Doctor's clothes shift slightly and a soft click sounded. A light bulb switched on overhead. It was about five inches between them, Miranda noted. There were also several shelves of cleaning supplies behind her, a broom poking her in the ribs, and an old bucket by her feet threatening to trip her if she moved too far. The Doctor, she saw, was eying a pile of folded rags curiously, completely oblivious to her increasing claustrophobia.

"So, Miranda," the Doctor started casually, "Why are you here and… hiding in a broom closet?"

Stay calm, breathe, and talk, she told herself. "I was doing someone a favor and well, it's stupid. I was… spying on her boyfriend for her."

The Doctor furrowed his brow. "Miranda, _spying_? Are you a spy? You don't look like one, then again that'd make you an excellent spy…" he paused, "Why were you spying?"

Miranda frowned but answered anyway, "She thought he was cheating on her."

"Was he?"

"No, well, yes, sort of," she started, "With… one of the _residents_."

"Do you know which one?" he asked, sounding serious.

Miranda stared at his bow tie, unable to meet his gaze. "Janice… something. Her room was down the hall. Why?"

"No reason," he said dismissively, "But what about the closet?"

"Huh?"

"Why were you hiding in the broom closet?"

"Oh, um, I shouldn't be up here. There was an announcement about an intruder; I thought they were looking for me so… I hid." Like a bleeding idiot, she mentally added.

The Doctor nodded. "Don't worry. It was probably me they were searching for but I don't know why. Someone here needs help… I just need to find them," he said, looking thoughtful then snapped his attention back to Miranda.

He suddenly became aware of their close proximity and how nervous Miranda looked. He cleared his throat, "We should probably…" he started, nodding at the door which he quickly sonicked and opened.

"Yeah…"

The pair stepped into the hall, both looking somewhat uncomfortable. Miranda's shoulders sagged as she relaxed slightly.

"I should... be leaving," Miranda muttered, almost to herself but the Doctor heard her clearly.

"Right, that's probably for the best," he said slowly, "I'll see you around, Miranda Cole."

She paused, "You will?"

He paused as well, "Er well, we work in the same cafe..."

Miranda felt as if a she were in the headlights of a two ton truck. "Oh... You're keeping the job, then?"

The Doctor stared at her, noticing that her complexion had decreased at least three shades, giving her a ghastly appearance. Better to back off for now, he thought. "Oh! What am I talking about? You're right, silly me. Silly old Doctor. Me in a job, ha! That'd never work. I'll remind myself to send in my two weeks' notice two weeks ago," he shrugged, "Course I didn't work there two weeks ago but no matter. It's to the same effect."

She nodded, still uncertain about his intentions. Tell him, she urged, tell him about the stalkers that aren't there! Instead of a relieving confession, Miranda found her mouth moving on its own accord, saying words that she didn't decide to say, "Well, bye then."

The Doctor smiled slightly, a distinct twinkle in his eyes. "Goodbye."

Miranda then turned stiffly and headed down the hall, towards the lift. The Doctor followed, she noticed. She gave him a questioning look.

"You said her room was this way?" he asked, pointing ahead, "Janice?"

"Oh, right. Yes."

This is so awkward, she thought, walking beside the Doctor. Just tell him now! "That's the one," Miranda nodded to the room as she walked.

"Thanks," the Doctor said before ducking into the room which Miranda saw was empty.

Stop and turn around, she growled as she got on the lift. She sighed and hit the button marked as 'L' for lobby. No, no, he's busy, she reasoned, he doesn't want to hear about your problems. He's here _because_he wants to help someone, someone that most likely has problems! He said it himself; why can't it be you? Because, it's not like before; there's no proof. I'm just... paranoid or something. Paranoid and arguing with myself, she thought dryly, brilliant.

The lift stopped suddenly and opened on the first floor, one away from the lobby. The wrinkled face of Janice Hopskirt smiled at her as she got onto the lift. Miranda moved over, feeling uncomfortable.

"Hello again, Miranda," she said cheerfully.

Miranda faked a smile. "Hi," said Miranda, quickly becoming interested in the floor.

Mrs. Hopskirt slid her own card key into the slot and hit B2. Miranda frowned but said nothing.

"Done you internship already?"

No point in telling the truth now, Miranda thought. "Just taking a break."

"So soon?" Mrs. Hopskirt asked, "But you've only just arrived."

"_And_ now I have to go…" Miranda said, growing irritated at the old woman's prying.

"I think you should stay," cooed Mrs. Hopskirt.

Miranda gritted her teeth, now staring at the button panel.

"You're such a pretty girl Miranda," Mrs. Hopskirt said sweetly.

"Thanks," Miranda replied, her tone devoid of emotion.

"Except for those dark circles," continued the old woman, "And you hair has definitely seen better days. Haven't you heard of a hairbrush?"

Miranda blinked and narrowed her eyes at the elderly woman. "_Excuse_ _me_?"

Mrs. Hopskirt shrugged, "I'm sure I could fix you up though. I've worked with worse."

Miranda bit back a stream of curses and foul names. She frowned, looking at the floor indicator above the doors as it showed they passed the lobby. Miranda began angrily jabbing the 'Open Doors' button with her thumb.

"Oh, don't run," Mrs. Hopskirt chuckled.

"I'd like to see you try and stop me." Miranda growled, backing away from the smiling old woman.

The doors opened on B1 and Miranda rushed out only to be grabbed by the strong arms of Tom Dover. She yelped as she was dragged back into the lift, kicking and clawing.

"Good work, Lieutenant," smiled Mrs. Hopskirt, "Maintain phase two."

"Phase two? Phase two of _what_?" echoed Miranda, staring up at Dover's smirking face.

"Never you mind, dearie," Mrs. Hopskirt smiled, "Your donation is going to be a big help to us, especially _me_."

"_What_ donation?" Miranda demanded.

Mrs. Hopskirt gave her a toothy grin, setting Miranda's stomach into knots. "Why, your body, of course," grinned the old woman.

Miranda's eyes grew wide with disbelief and her heart started beating wildly in her ribcage. "No… Let me go! Let! Me! G- Mmmph!"

The Lieutenant's hand clamped over Miranda's mouth as the lift doors slid shut. Despite her struggles, she couldn't break free. Miranda was unable to do anything but watch in silent horror as the floor indicator stopped at B2 and the lift doors slowly opened.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks to all who reviewed! Let me know what you think on this chapter. I'm hoping this story arc is unfolding in a proper Who way.

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><p>Chapter Five: Below Basement Level 1<p>

The Doctor snooped around Ms. Hopskirt's room, scanning things now and then with his sonic. "Croquet needles, yarn, candy tins, dainty doilies and… stuff! Nothing abnormal, no traces of alien presence, not even a bio-signature, well, aside from a typical human bio-signature`," he murmured quietly to himself, "O-kay."

The search hadn't quite been what he was expecting. What _had_ he expected? A glowing pod in her closet? Alien egg sacks under the bed? Well, yes, actually. All that would've been unsurprising and rather helpful. At least it would've clued him in to what was going on. He frowned.

Despite Janice Hopskirt's less than normal behavior, there wasn't anything in her room to point to her being non-terrestrial or in distress for the matter. But, the Doctor reasoned, that didn't mean she wasn't hiding something. He set his sonic screwdriver to another setting and it started blinking green.

"Whatever piece of technology sent that distress signal is here in this building... somewhere."

The Doctor gave one quick glance around the room before exiting. He started down the hall, somewhat aimlessly; his feet usually took him where he needed to go. He found himself standing in the doorway of a recreation room; inside were a number of elderly folk playing board games and doing various activities. One table in particular stared him down but the Doctor returned their gaze coolly. He was about to head over when he heard a fit of giggles to his left coming from a trio of old women. Change of plans, he thought as he walked over to their table.

"Mind if I join you, ladies?" he asked with a polite smile.

One old woman in pink smiled up at him, "Not at all," she replied as the Doctor sat down, "Susan was just saying how you looked just like her grandson."

The woman named Susan nodded. "You look just like my grandson," she smiled.

"We've already told him that, Suz. Turn on your ears," the first lady said, motioning to her own.

"What?"

"Your ears!"

"My… what?"

"Ears!"

"Yes, I'm eighty-two, Dolores."

"No, no, _ears_, not _years_," Delores explained loudly.

"Oh, forget it, Dee," the third woman groaned.

"Here, I got it," the Doctor said, casually slipping a hand in his jacket. A whining noise was heard a moment later then a click of Susan's hearing aid turning on.

"You say something, Jeanie?" Susan asked.

"Never you mind, Suz," Delores answered then turned to the Doctor, "So, haven't seen you around before. New staff?"

"Oh, no," the Doctor replied, "Just visiting for a bit. I have some questions actually…" He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward as did they. "What can you tell me about Janice Hopskirt?"

"Hopskirt?" the third woman snorted, "Bit of a slag if you ask me."

"Jean!"

"Well, it's true."

"Does she act unusual at all?" the Doctor asked.

"Aside from throwing glances at Mr. Dover? Only started working here not more than a week ago," Delores said, "But you can't deny those type of glances."

"What type of glances…?" the Doctor asked, narrowing his eyes slightly in confusion.

"Well, you know…"

The Doctor stared.

"_Glances_," Delores stressed, wiggling her eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"Oh…" the Doctor said slowly.

"You get it?"

"Ah, no. Not really," he admitted.

Jean rolled her eyes, "They were involved… _romantically_."

"Oh… OH! The cheating boyfriend! Right," the Doctor exclaimed, "What do you know about him? You said he started working here a week ago. What does he do?"

"Supposed to be a cook or something. Delivers meals and such. He seemed fine at first but after he met up with that lot…" Jean frowned.

"Who is 'that lot' exactly?" pried the Doctor.

"_That_ lot," Jean said, nodding over her shoulder.

The Doctor followed her gaze to the table in the back, the ones that first noticed him walk in. There were three old men and two old women sitting there, each staring back at him.

"Odd folk, I tell you," Susan whispered.

The Doctor looked away from the five. "Odd how?"

"Well for one, they don't interact with anyone but themselves," Jean said.

"Lots of people keep to themselves," the Doctor reasoned.

"No, you don't understand," Delores started, "They all came from different places; Hopskirt came all the way from Surrey but get this, they all knew each other. No way they could've all met."

"Pen pals?" the Doctor suggested.

"Unlikely," quipped Jean.

"That's not the half of it though," Delores continued.

"What's the other half, then?" pressed the Doctor.

"You see, they act unusual. Like how they're staring now. I sometimes see them moving about in a herd at night, past curfew. I hear the lift moving every night. I know it's them."

"Roaming about like they own the place," frowned Jean.

"Tell them about the other ones," Susan said.

"There were other ones," Delores added, "There used to be eight of them."

"And what happened to them?" the Doctor asked.

"They were carted off," Jean answered.

"To the loony bin," Susan said.

"Well, another facility," Delores shrugged, "A few months ago, one old dame, Lisa Cartwright suddenly stopped hanging around them then suddenly, she went mad, saying she wasn't Lisa Cartwright!"

"Who else would she be?" Susan asked.

"And then there was Edward Dean," Delores went on, "Same thing happened to him. It was… actually right around when that Dover boy showed up. A bit odd, Hopskirt and Dean were close."

"Did they glance at each other?" the Doctor asked.

"Yeah, quite a bit. Think Hopskirt's rebounding, is all," Delores said.

"More like she's a tart," Jean snorted.

"Or something else," the Doctor mused, "Well! It's been nice talking to you, ladies but I've got business and _stuff_ to take care of."

"Do drop by again. It gets awfully dull here," Delores told him.

The Doctor nodded, "I will if I get the chance. Busy me."

He stood quickly, flashing them a grin as they said goodbye. "He looks just like my grandson," he heard Susan say. As he exited the rec room, he didn't miss the look the table of five was giving him. Definitely suspicious, he decided, as was their nightly trips in the lift. That was a place to start. Just as the Doctor rounded a corner, he crashed into someone.

"Ah, sorry!" he said quickly.

"Watch where you're going," a female voice growled.

"Miranda?" the Doctor asked, eying the irritated woman.

She glared at him before her expression softened. "Yes?"

"I thought you were leaving," the Doctor frowned, "Hold on. Did you put on makeup and… fix your hair?"

He watched as Miranda straightened the blue croqueted flower in her hair. "Yes, well, I figured there's no reason to run around looking like a _total_ slob," she sighed, crossing her arms, "I have _some_ respect of self-imagine, mind you."

"Right," the Doctor drawled, looking her over again, "And you didn't leave… why?"

Miranda blinked then smiled up at him. "I changed my mind," she replied, stepping closer to the Doctor, "Let's just say I couldn't stand to be apart from you."

"_What?_" the Doctor squeaked, backing away from her.

"Don't play coy with me, dearie," Miranda grinned, taking a hold of his red suspenders.

Before he could utter a reply or react, Miranda attacked him with a hungry kiss. The Doctor, his back against the wall, flailed his arms in a mild panic. His hands twitched as he held them midair before they settled on her shoulders. Firmly but not too harshly, he pushed Miranda away, breaking the kiss. Completely baffled by her sudden… overly friendliness, the Doctor gave her a confused and flustered look.

"I uh that was um er," the Doctor tripped over his words, trying to make sense of her actions, "Uh. Was that cinnamon?"

Miranda grinned, "That it was. Care for another taste, love?"

"What? No! _What?_" he exclaimed, removing himself from between her and the wall. After there was a good amount of distance separating them he continued, "That! What was that? Well, that was a _kiss_. Obviously. But why were you kissing me?"

She raised a brow, "Is that rhetorical?"

"For anyone else, probably, yes. Amy, I can understand. Rose… but, but you? Never you," the Doctor shook his head, "I mean I'm fairly certain you don't like me at all… on _any_ level. Understandable. So. Why were you kissing me? Not rhetorical."

Miranda raised the other brow, "Maybe… I _do_ like you on some level and you're just too thick to notice."

The Doctor stared at her uncertainly before wiping his lips with the back of his hand and examining it. "You weren't wearing poison lipstick, were you?" he asked apprehensively, "Do they have that in the twenty-first century?"

She sighed and put a hand on her hip. "That rules out a romantic connection," she muttered under her breath then said more loudly, "Well, you were in a hurry. Where were you off to?"

He seemed to snap out of his stupor at her question. "Remember how I told you I was here looking for someone?" he asked to which Miranda gave a noncommittal nod, "Well, I found their trail. Hopefully. You might as well come along since you're still here. I have to keep an eye on you…"

Miranda gave him an expectant look then said, "Where to?"

* * *

><p>The lift doors slid shut and the Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver from his tweed. "Let's try the lower levels, shall we? Always something to hide in basements or generally underground places," he said, sonicking the button panel.<p>

A few moments later, the lift opened on B1. The Doctor poked his head out to look around. "Kitchens," he stated then sniffed the air, "Fully functional. Nothing abnormal here aside from the overabundance of cabbage… Better luck with B2!"

He stepped back inside as the doors shut. Miranda looked a tad bored, he noticed as the lift went down another level. The doors opened and he turned away from her to look outside of the lift. "Nothing abnormal here… Well," he shrugged, "Aside from the fact that we're two steps away from standing inside of a spaceship."

Before them was a circular corridor, made of a dark metal with strange symbols etched into various walls. The only light to see by was a dull green that came from overhead, flickering in multiple spots as if the power was dwindling. "Watch where you step," the Doctor instructed as they walked into the corridor. The lack of sufficient light made the ground near impossible to see. He set his sonic to a special frequency and it started blinking rapidly. The distress signal originated in this ship, he concluded.

The Doctor ran a hand over the symbols, frowning at them. "These are Videan," he said to himself, missing the surprised look Miranda gave him, "That's odd. Earth is a lot farther than they've ever traveled. Judging by the slight corrosion of the interior, it seems they've been here awhile... Fifty years, at least."

He started down the corridor, glancing around for anything out of place. There was a large room to their right, full of strange equipment. The Doctor stepped in carefully, glancing at the two metal tables in the center. Bits of wire and tubing hung off the metal slabs; it looked like an operation room.

"It's a science vessel," he whispered then glanced at Miranda who was standing behind him, "The Videans were a curious race. When they took to the skies, they set out for exploration, not conquest, unlike many other races. They were called the Watchers of the Stars; they didn't want to touch the sky because seeing was enough for them... So why did they feel the urge to touch down on earth?"

The Doctor exited the room, the layout of the ship somewhat familiar to him since he now knew its purpose and design. He came upon a circular door and went to work on the access pad. "Vide is really very far off. Long expeditions means a lot of time to do nothing. A typical Videan science ship only requires one or two to pilot so there should be…" he drawled, as the door whooshed open, "A hibernation chamber."

He allowed a slight smirk to cross his features as he entered. Along the wall where eight glass capsules that ran from floor to ceiling. The room was considerably darker than the others so the Doctor sonicked a nearby wall panel and hit a few buttons. The green lights came on overhead, illuminating the room.

In each of the glass capsules was an alien, a Videan as they were identified as. They were humanoid in shape, with thick flaps of dreadlock-type appendages on their heads. Their skin was a dark purplish color and appeared to be badly burned and shriveled. Each had two large eyes that seemed sunken and empty. A loose grey uniform was worn by each of them; four Videans were obviously female. The Doctor stepped closer to the capsules, eying each of their faces with a sad expression.

"They're all dead," he murmured, still looking at the dead Videans, "There are two things that just aren't adding up."

"Such as?"

He pointed to a large knob on the wall. "That controls the hibernation chambers. Opens and shuts the capsules, also initiates the forced sleeping process- think of it as letting in knock out gas. So the question is, if all eight crew members were in the hibernation chambers, who put them to sleep?"

"It's a mystery, I guess. What was the other thing that didn't make sense?" Miranda asked.

The Doctor looked at the ground then slowly turned to Miranda. She stared back at him, her chin raised slightly. "The other question," the Doctor said quietly, "is what have you done to Miranda?"

Her confident look faltered for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

"Ever since I ran into you, you haven't been acting right. The kissing bit, for one, was a red flag but now, now _this_ is a blaring siren. We're inside of a spaceship, a proper spaceship. We're standing a few feet from aliens… and you haven't even batted an eyelash."

She squared her jaw as he walked closer to her. "I'm in shock," she said evenly. The Doctor looked into her eyes, unblinkingly as he spoke, "You said that rather calmly for a person in shock."

Miranda laughed softly, "Will you listen to yourself?"

"Who am I?" the Doctor demanded.

She scoffed at the question then frowned, realizing he wasn't going to back off. "You're my friend," she replied smartly.

"My name."

Finally she stepped away from him, breaking eye contact. "Enough of this nonsense! You're imagining things," she said quickly, "I mean; _you're_ the one acting odd. Look at me! I am-"

"Don't you dare call yourself Miranda," the Doctor growled.

"Well who else would I be?" she shouted angrily.

"Don't," he barked, "Don't think you could ever fool me into believing you're her."

Her frown deepened as she glared at the Doctor. "Fine," she hissed, "It would've come down to this one way or another… You knew too much anyway."

"What have you done to Miranda?" the Doctor demanded.

She smirked at him mischievously. "Oh you'll find out soon enough, dearie." Before a question could form on his lips, she darted out of the room. Her fingers were fast on the access pad outside and the doors slid as the Doctor reached them. She grinned at him through the clear window in the door.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She merely smirked in response. There was a loud hissing noise behind him, causing him to whip around. All eight of the capsules had opened, the corpses of the Videans tumbling out. A thick yellow gas spewed out from the capsules, filling the room quickly. The Doctor ran to the control knob on the wall and tried turning it.

"It won't work," Miranda's voice sang on the other side, "I've overridden the room's power. You can only operate the equipment on _this_ side, I'm afraid."

The Doctor stumbled over to the door, coughing and hiding his face in the crook of his arm. He leaned against it for support as he fumbled with his sonic, trying to fix it on a setting to shut off the gas. It fell from his hands as the gas took effect. He slowly slid down the door and sprawled out onto the cold metal floor as his limbs stopped responding. His breathing was labored.

"Nighty night," coed the imposter.

Eyes half lidded, the Doctor looked up at Miranda's smirking face in the window. As all coherent thought escaped him, the Doctor shut his eyes, falling into a deep sleep. He was defenseless, completely at the mercy of his enemy.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Mind and Body

The first thing the Doctor noticed when he came to was that he was no longer in the Videan hibernation chamber; in fact he wasn't in the ship at all. He was lying on a bed in a dimly lit room. He sat up quickly then immediately groaned as his back strained.

"Aah! Ah, pain. A lot of pain," he moaned, rubbing his lower back, "This bed isn't much help. Barely any support! _Springs_? Honestly? I'm in the Stone Age, well, the Second Stone Age, more like. Hold on!"

The Doctor's eyes widened as his hands closed around his throat and gasped, "That's not my voice." He ran his hands over his face and his hair. "That's not my face; it's so… _droopy_ and not mine! I've been called baby face and this is most definitely not a baby face… Not that I have baby's face to begin with, but still! And I don't wear glasses either."

He took off a pair of spectacles and his sight blurred. "Well, yes, I've been known to wear them on occasion but not out of necessity," he muttered before slipping them back on, "I've had 45/45 vision for as long as I can remember… This whole 'not me' thing is starting to get out of hand. Ah! Hands!"

The Doctor brought his hands up to his line of vision; they were wrinkled and spotted with age. "Again, not mine. I don't like where this is going," he said to himself. He pinched the back of his hand and counted how long it took for it to return to normal. "Blimey," he breathed, "I'm seventy-nine! I haven't been this young in ages!"

He put a hand to his chest and paused. "One heart," the Doctor said incredulously, "I'm human and I _know_ I'm human. No Chameleon Arch this time. Okay… Okay, this is _bad_ but not _terrible_. Not yet at least."

Quickly yet carefully, he got out of bed and walked into the connected restroom to look into the mirror. Staring back was, by earth standards, an old man dressed in an ugly maroon sweater. His hair was grey and combed back, a pair of dark eyes sat beneath thick brows and behind horn rimmed glasses.

"I know you," the Doctor said to the reflection, "You were in the rec room. One of the five at the table. If you're _here_ then where am I?"

His eyes widened as another question hit him.

* * *

><p>It was already night and well past curfew so the halls were empty and quiet. The Doctor walked down the corridor, careful to remain undetected; it was fair to assume that anyone roaming about would be unfriendly, to say the least. Before the Doctor did anything to undo what had happened, he had to make sure…<p>

The Doctor paused as he came to a door with a small nameplate to its side; it read: _Janice Hopskirt. _Head bowed slightly, he opened the door and entered. The lights were off, making the room dark aside from the light that filtered in from the window. He could see a figure sitting hunched over on the bed, clutching a handkerchief. The figure sat up a little straighter and drew in a shaky breath.

"W-who's there?" the woman asked, her voice strained and laced with worry.

The Doctor looked at her with a sad expression; he couldn't help but feel responsible for what happened. "It's me, Miranda," he said softly, "It's the Doctor."

She stood quickly, backing away from him until she was by the window. From the moonlight streaming into the room, he saw the frail form of an old woman. She stared at him nervously, wringing her hands. As he came closer, he could make out her eyes. Even though they were blue instead of Miranda's brown and were lined with wrinkles instead of dark circles, the Doctor could see the real Miranda shining through. Her expression was one of uncertainty yet it held the smallest trace of hope, a look that the Doctor had realized she reserved for him.

"When I first met you," he began, "You were standing on the roof of your flat."

Miranda shuddered and let out a shaky breath. The Doctor saw her shoulders relax slightly and took this as a sign that she trusted him, well, as much as she did before, anyway.

"Are you alright?" he asked then smacked himself. "Oh, what's wrong with me? Of course you're not alright! You're in someone else's body! That's relatively traumatic- the first time it happens. But! Don't worry, we'll put you right. And everyone else for that matter as soon as work out exactly what's going on. Sorry! New question, what do you remember?"

Miranda wiped at her eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed. She stared down at her bony hands as she spoke. "I was in the lift. Hopskirt and her stupid boyfriend grabbed me."

"Tom Dover?"

"Yeah. That was him."

"More like that _was_ him," the Doctor mused, "It's doubtful that even Janice Hopskirt was ever herself."

"What do you mean?"

The Doctor met her confused gaze. "Something tells me we aren't the first to have our bodies stolen. The Videan science shuttle has been here _awhile_… and the Videans have been dead for quite some time."

"The… _whats_?"

He blinked. "The Videans. Sorry, didn't you see them? Purple aliens- hard to miss."

"Aliens?" she repeated, her voice higher in pitch.

The Doctor looked at her carefully. He wasn't sure she was ready for the aliens-are-real surprise but there wasn't much room to avoid it. Also, he reasoned, if she could handle the Valeyard, this should be easy.

"Miranda, we had our bodies swapped with other people. You know there's no technology on earth that can do that."

"You don't know that for sure… it could be a government experiment or something," she said, not sounding convinced of her own words.

"But you know it's not," the Doctor replied.

She shook her head, looking away from him. "Aliens, though? Just suggesting that, it's…" Her jaw clenched as she trailed off, eyes distant.

"Crazy," he finished.

Miranda bowed her head, a deep frown set on her face. He continued, "That's about as crazy as someone telling you a man was living inside their head, making their nightmares real." The Doctor watched as Miranda turned away from him, bringing a hand to her face.

"I've asked you to trust me before, Miranda, and you have. I know it's a lot to take in but there's no time. The Videans have to be stopped before anyone else is hurt."

She sniffed and looked at him with glassy eyes. There was a slight hesitation before she spoke, "What do we do?"

A smile slowly spread across the Doctor's face and lit up his eyes. "We. I like the sound of that."

* * *

><p>Miranda sat alone in the rec room, her eyes on the unfinished game of checkers before her. She was waiting. She ignored the odd looks from some of the others, sensing what they were silently asking- why was Janice Hopskirt not sitting with her group? Miranda stayed focused on the task at hand and pushed a red checker piece to the other side of the board. King me, she thought to herself.<p>

There was a light tap on her shoulder and she looked up to see a trio of old women, one of which was giving her a distasteful look.

"Wotcher, Hopskirt," the one in the front said. "We've got a message for you from that Dean friend of yours?"

"Dean?" Miranda questioned.

"Told you she'd be loopy in no time," the glaring women muttered.

"Oh enough, Jean!"

"I'm only saying what you're thinking, Dee," Jean shrugged.

Delores sighed, "The skinny fellow with glasses? Don't you remember him? Dean Howards?"

"Oh, right," Miranda lied, "What did he say?"

"He said verbatim, 'When the cats are away, other cats check out their basement.' Does that mean anything to you?"

Miranda blinked, "Uh no, sorry. I have to go." She stood and headed for the door but not before hearing the other women ask, "Did you tell her about the cats?"

Not the most subtle message, Miranda thought as she headed towards Hopskirt's room. Ahead of her, she saw the old man, Dean Howards, leaning against the door frame. He looked at her and smiled the way the Doctor always did.

"What rubbish message was that?" she asked and he shrugged.

"I was going to end it with 'the mice will play' but decided against it. I like mine better, more direct," the Doctor explained as they began walking towards the lift. Once inside, Miranda glanced at him. "I assume you got it?"

He held up a lift key and placed it into the slot. "Apparently Mr. Fake-Tom-Dover should check his pockets after bumping into strangers. Shall we?" he asked before jabbing the button for B2.

Miranda drew in a long breath as the lift began its descent to the basement level. She wrung her hands as she tried to fight off her nerves. Thankfully, the Doctor spoke, allowing her to focus on something other than the knot in her stomach.

"During the day, that lot stays above ground so we shouldn't run into anyone. If we do, I'll think of something. Let's not think of that until we have to. Just focus on the task at hand."

"You never really explained it," she awkwardly said to him, "What _is_ the task at hand exactly?"

"Oh, um. Look for things… Don't get caught," the Doctor replied nonchalantly.

"That's it…? That's your plan?"

"No!" he said exasperatedly, "Of course not. I wouldn't call it a _plan_, just… a suggested course of action."

"You mean you don't have an actual plan?" Miranda squeaked, "We're going into an alien spaceship and you don't have a plan?"

He shook his head, "Plans never work so I never plan. It's a big waste of time."

"Isn't that's why there's Plan B?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes, "If Plan B was so good, it would've been Plan A! Forget plans, impromptu is the way to go. Much more fun, I think."

"Fun? I'd rather be bored and not get killed by a death ray!"

"Videans don't have _death rays_… I don't think," the Doctor added quietly, "Don't worry; I do this sort of thing more often than you'd imagine. Consider it my job- no, never mind, that sounds boring. Consider it my _extreme_ _hobby_."

She gave him an incredulous stare. "You could've just lied and said you had a plan," Miranda deadpanned.

He gave her an uncertain look, "I have a plan."

"It's too late now," she sighed.

"Right. Sorry," he nodded as the lift opened.

The two stepped into the dim green hallway of the Videan ship. The Doctor paused, listening for signs of movement. When none came, he signaled for them to walk.

"When I was here last, there was an operating room. I thought it was for medical procedures but it's not," he said as he opened a door.

The two stepped into a room with two metal slabs with wires and tubes running to strange machines. "This is where they took me!" Miranda gasped, "They strapped me to that table and put this… _thing_ on my head."

She walked over and picked up a silver diadem with green gems. Attached to it were a few thin wires leading back to a large piece of equipment. On the next table was another identical diadem. The Doctor walked up beside her, taking it in hand.

"These gems are Putoen Psychic Rocks from Puto, the sister planet of Vide. There were full caverns made of these. It was said that one step inside would separate mind from body," he explained, "Of course, these fragments aren't strong enough but this equipment…"

He put down the diadem and strode over to the largest machine. It was spherical in shape, containing a number of lights and switches. He ran a hand over the metal shell and bent down to examine it.

"This is an amplifier of sorts," he told Miranda who was staring wide eyed at the machine, "It sends a current through these wires to the Putoen rocks, making their psychic waves stronger which gives the same effect as stepping into a Putoen cave."

"It pulls the mind from someone's body," Miranda said, trying to keep up.

"Exactly but in order to switch minds, or bodies, however you want to look at it, there has to be relay to direct the psychic energy into the other body… Ah ha!" he whooped. The Doctor pushed a small panel and it opened, revealing the interior circuits. "Right here," he said pointing to a small blue circle, "This is the inferior alternating chip here but the superior is missing… That's the one we need. It stores the data of every mind it switches so it can direct their mind to or from their body. Are you keeping up?"

"Um, I think?"

"Basically, the superior alternating chip remembers whose mind belongs where. If the machine was set to switch, the chip would put the mind opposite of its owner and vice versa."

"So that could fix us, right?"

"Yes," he replied, "But it's not here…"

"And you won't find it on this ship either," came a voice from behind them.

The Doctor turned to find his own body standing in the doorway. "I'd call you Dean Howards but that's not your name, is it?"

"How perceptive," the man said, "From what I've heard, you know much about us and our technology. I'm almost impressed."

"You're far from home," the Doctor said, "Why is that?"

The man smirked, "The same could be asked of you… Time Lord."

The Doctor looked at him calmly as he continued, "I almost didn't believe it when the scanner identified your DNA but a bi-cardiovascular system seemed proof enough."

"Doctor, what is he saying…?" Miranda asked, looking at him uncertainly.

"Nothing. It's not important," he dismissed.

"Oh that's right," the man said, "Your little friend is human. So she doesn't know about you?"

"Know what?" she asked edgily.

"That your friend here isn't human," he told Miranda.

Miranda looked at the Doctor with wide eyes, taking a step backwards.

"You…you're an alien?" she exclaimed, looking at him as if he had grown another head.

He cringed. "Well, yes, from your perspective. But it's not that bad. Loads of people are aliens. If you go into another country, you'd be considered one too. Same thing only more distance."

"You're an alien."

The Doctor sighed. "I thought we established this, yes."

"This whole time and you didn't think to tell me!"

"I was waiting for a better time!"

"How much longer were you going to wait? After you sprouted tentacles?"

"I don't have tentacles! This is what I look like!" he paused then pointed to his own body, "_That_ is what I really look like. No tentacles or anything."

She was still staring at him fearfully.

"It's still me, Miranda. Nothing's changed."

"A bi-cardiovascular system," she breathed, suddenly realizing what it meant, "You have two hearts like…"

"Everyone from my planet has two hearts, yes," he said, dodging the meaning of her statement. "But we have more pressing issues to deal with, like why the Videans are on earth."

The Doctor turned back to the Videan in his body. "If you know of my race, then you know what I'm capable of."

"You're not much of a threat in that feeble body," the Videan laughed.

"Underestimating me is your first mistake," the Doctor said, "Not humoring me will be your second so how about it?"

The Videan was silent but regarded the Doctor with a wary eye. The Doctor continued, "Good. Let's start with introductions. I'm the Doctor and this is Miranda. Your name?"

He hesitated before finally answering. "Vyre."

"Vyre! What a lovely and very Videan name," the Doctor smiled, "Now, Vyre, why don't you tell us why you're here."

Vyre considered not cooperating but saw no harm in it. "It started over fifty years ago. We were on an expedition, farther than any other Videan has gone. We made it to this galaxy after some years and saw there was life in it. It was our mission to observe and document other life so Earth seemed like a good host planet."

"A host planet?" the Doctor inquired.

"The best method of observation was to live among the inhabitants. This equipment allowed us to do just that, live their lives but only for a short period of time- a month at the longest. We would gather first person data and report our findings. The humans whose bodies we inhabited remained onboard in the hibernation chambers until our research was done. They didn't even realize what had happened."

"If this was just a peaceful research mission," the Doctor started, "then why are you stealing bodies permanently? What happened?"

Vyre looked at the ground for a moment. "There was a glitch in the ship's engine, it malfunctioned. We couldn't maintain orbit any longer and… crashed. I was the engineer; I should have realized the fault before we ever set off…"

"What happened after you crashed?"

"We were badly injured… all eight of us. It was by chance that someone wandered upon our so ship soon after, a woman. Our Commander managed to open the hatch and curiosity brought the woman inside. The Commander, although she was fatally wounded, managed to initiate a final mind swap before her body died."

"Janice Hopskirt," the Doctor breathed.

Vyre nodded, "That was her name, yes. The human woman's body became the Commander's and she single handedly found new bodies for the rest of us. Some of us protested, I was one of them. I didn't think it right but, when your inches from death… you do whatever it takes. We assumed the identities of the humans while they died in our hibernation chambers. It was only supposed to be temporary. Although our ship was unable to fly, it still held power. We sent a distress signal to Vide, hoping to be rescued but they never came."

"The signal would have never reached Vide, you know that," the Doctor said softly.

"We had to try!" Vyre growled, "What would you have done?"

"I wouldn't have killed people," he replied.

"They were going to die anyway! These humans have such short lives; not even _half_ of a Videan's."

"So that gives you the right to sacrifice them for yourself?" the Doctor asked.

"It's called survival!"

"More like murder," Miranda snapped.

"We've done what we must," Vyre said solemnly.

"And how much longer do you think this is going to go on?" the Doctor demanded, "You use these bodies until they're old and then steal more. You can't justify what you're doing. You're hurting innocent people!"

"I don't have to answer to you, Time Lord! You are powerless, here."

"Well, that's where you're wrong," the Doctor began with a smile, "You see, I know a thing or two about mind swappy machines- they're all alike, aren't they? Course they are. You've said that the superior alternating chip isn't on the ship so it's safe to assume that it's above the ship, namely in your Commander's possession."

Vyre was silent.

"Thought so," chirped the Doctor, "So that means as soon as we find it, we can install it into the machine and everyone switches back to their rightful bodies."

In a swift motion, for a seventy-nine year old, the Doctor rushed forward only to be grabbed and shoved back into the room. He stumbled but stayed on his feet.

"You're a fool if you think you'll get past me," Vyre goaded.

"Past you? Oh, no, I didn't plan on moving from this spot actually," the Doctor grinned, "Also, you might want to check your pockets. Honestly, it's surprising how unsuspecting you a lot are when people bump into you."

Vyre quickly patted his tweed down and glared. "The weapon!"

The Doctor held up his sonic. "That would be _screwdriver_. Very useful for a lot of things- opening doors, fastening screws, filing through data located on an inferior alternating chip. Oh and it can shatter Putoen Psychic rocks if at the right frequency so you might want to keep your distance unless you'd like to be responsible for destroying it."

The threat was enough to keep Vyre at bay. The Doctor sonicked the control panel and turned to Miranda. "I can switch only one of us back at a time with the inferior chip. Between the two of us, you're the only one that'll end up above ground. You need to find where the Commander put the superior chip and bring it back down so we can reverse everything they've done."

Miranda felt herself shaking but nodded anyway. "Okay."

"Good. It should be a blue circle type thing. About the size of your palm. It'll be somewhere the Commander would know it was safe. Somewhere she'd always be close to."

Miranda nodded and the Doctor sonicked the inferior chip, focusing on her psychic frequency. "Aaaand go!"

Janice Hopskirt's body swayed slightly and she suddenly looked around as if seeing the room for the first time. "What…?"

"Nice to have you back, Jan, or should I call you Commander? Actually, I shouldn't. Not part of your crew. How about your real name?" the Doctor suggested.

The Videan in Janice Hopskirt's body glared at the Doctor and turned to Vyre. "How could you let this happen?" she hissed.

"Not his fault," the Doctor replied for him, "I've got some leverage here, what with my ability to destroy your Putoen Psychic rocks and ruin your little mind switching device… _Yeah_, I know about that."

The Commander glared. "We'll return your body to you if you leave now."

"Something tells me you're lying," he replied, "But that's not the terms I'd agree to anyway."

"Then what _is_?" she growled.

"Hand over the superior alternating chip and fix this," the Doctor said evenly.

"And then what?" the Commander spat, "Grow older and die?"

"Everyone dies."

"Not. Me."

"That's debatable. How about this then, tell me how you managed to conceal your ship for all these years. It's impressive, especially with the massive distress call ringing out."

Vyre spoke first. "We built this building on top of our ship, with the funds of the humans we had become. It was to be a meeting place for us. When we grew old, we'd come here and find new bodies."

"And let me guess, while you were off, living other people's lives, you prevented the discovery of your ship with- what? A perception filter?" the Doctor asked.

Vyre nodded, "That's right."

"Enough talk!" the Commander shouted, "Alert the others. Find the girl and bring her to me!"

"Aren't you forgetting me?" the Doctor asked, "I can destroy this machine before you even reach Miranda. Doing so would be pointless."

The Commander in her frail human body squared her shoulders. "As commander I must make difficult choices. This isn't one of them. You're lying, Time Lord. You want your body back just as much as I want another. You won't destroy our equipment. You need it just as we do."

* * *

><p>Everything went black for a moment then as bright as the sun. Miranda squeezed her eyes shut as she swayed on the spot.<p>

"Are you alright?" came a male voice.

Miranda opened her eyes to find herself looking at Tom Dover, or rather, his imposter. "Are you alright?" he repeated, sounding more urgent. Miranda nodded and replied, "I'm fine."

It's my own voice, she thought then noticed Dover was staring at her oddly. Act like Hopskirt or the Commander- whoever!

"Is… there a problem, dearie?" she asked, trying to look imposing.

Dover blinked and shook his head. "No, sorry."

"Well get back to work then," she ordered.

"Right." He nodded and began to walk away.

Miranda sighed and looked around. Just as she was headed to Hopskirt's room, a voice came on over the loudspeaker. _"There is an intruder among us… Code B2."_

There was a deafening silence after the announcement. Slowly, Miranda turned and saw that Dover had stopped some ways down the hall and was looking at her. Bugger. She took off running as soon as he did. Miranda headed for a flight of stairs, planning on running to the second floor. Behind her, she heard Dover leap down a flight of steps. Run and don't panic, she warned herself as she threw open the door and ran out into the hall. Hopskirt's room… it was _this_ way!

Miranda heard Dover coming after her and didn't bother looking back. He'd surely catch her if she hid in Hopskirt's room, that or she'd be trapped inside. A thought struck her.

"It's worth a shot," she said to herself, ducking into the broom closet.

As she heard Dover's thundering footsteps approach, she quickly kicked the door open. In an instant, Dover crashed into the door with a loud thwack and fell to the ground. Miranda peeked out to see that he was out cold.

"That was brilliant," she breathed, surprised it worked.

With him down, she ran around the corner into Hopskirt's room. The first thing she checked was her tin of candies but nothing else was in there aside from her cinnamons. Miranda looked through her drawers and under her bed, in her closet and in every nook and cranny. Nothing!

Miranda sighed, frustrated, and ran her hands through her well combed hair. Her fingers snagged on the hair clip and she growled, ripping it from her head. Miranda glared at the croqueted flower and went to throw it when she suddenly stopped. It was the size of her palm. She carefully moved a few pieces of the thick yarn aside, glimpsing a dark blue interior.

She tugged at the yarn, stripping it from its hard center. Once finished, she was left holding a blue disc with silver etchings on one side. She smiled to herself. Brilliant… Now I just have to get it to the Doctor, she thought dryly.

Chip in hand, Miranda hurried towards the lift. "I don't have a lift key," she gasped, "Wait…" She quickly patted down her pockets and pulled one out. "Thanks, Hopskirt."

The opened and Miranda cautiously stepped into the Videan ship. She could hear voices down the corridor, mostly likely in the mind transfer room. How do I get it to him without getting caught?

"Well, hello again," the Doctor's voice said from behind her.

Miranda spun around to look at him, or rather Vyre. She began backing up slowly then turn and broke into a full out run.

"No you don't!" he shouted just as he grabbed her.

Miranda let out a shriek as he lifted her off the ground. "Get off me!" she yelled as he hauled her into a room.

"Miranda!" the real Doctor called.

"My flower!" the Commander cried, "Where is it?"

"You mean the chip?" Miranda asked, "Right here!" She tossed the blue disc to the Doctor who caught it easily. Just as he moved to put it into the machine, the Commander spoke, "If you install that chip, the girl dies!"

The Doctor turned to see Vyre grab Miranda around the neck. Both his and Miranda's heart skipped a beat. The scene seemed all too familiar and much too personal. Standing there, he really could pass as the Valeyard. He hesitated then Miranda looked him in the eye. "Do it."

In one motion, the Doctor tossed his sonic screwdriver to Vyre who clumsily caught it and inserted the superior alternating chip into the panel. Almost immediately, the Doctor's vision went black then returned a moment later. He was now in his own body and quickly let go of Miranda. Before Vyre or the Commander could remove the chip, he sonicked the room, sending waves bouncing off the walls. Moments later, the tiny green gems in the diadems split and shattered.

"NO!" yelled the Commander, staring at the Putoen rocks in horror.

"It's over," the Doctor told her, "There's nothing more you can do but live out your lives."

Vyre looked crestfallen while the Commander fumed.

"It's time we leave, Miranda," the Doctor said.

She nodded and made to follow him to the lift. Behind them, a door whooshed open and closed. "What are you doing?" Vyre called, alarmed.

"What room is that?" asked the Doctor.

"The control room," Vyre replied, trying to open the door, "She has access to the power distribution systems. We use them in emergencies to focus the ship's energy to specific rooms."

The Doctor sonicked the door open to reveal a satisfied looking Hopskirt. Behind her, on a screen was a layout of the ship; one section in particular was blinking red. "What have you done?" Vyre demanded.

"Only directed all power to the Transfer Room," she smirked.

"But the circuits are blown," the Doctor stated, "All that power going into the equipment, it'll overload!"

He ran over to the control panel, frantically trying to reprogram it. "It won't work," she cooed, "We'll be dead before you figure out my security code so by all means, keep trying."

"She's right," Vyre admitted, "The ship will implode within minutes! We must leave now!"

The Doctor turned to Miranda, "Take Vyre to the lift and go!"

"What about you?" she asked worriedly.

"Just go!"

Reluctantly, Miranda nodded and helped Vyre down the hall. The Doctor looked at the Commander's smug face. "You don't have to this," he told her, "You can stop this now." The distinct crackle of electricity sounded down the hall.

"Too late for that."

"Then come with me. You don't have to die here."

The Commander gave the Doctor a determined look, "I think I'll die on my own terms, dearie."

"Doctor!" he heard Miranda shout and he turned and ran towards her.

The green lights went out overhead, the only glow coming from the electricity surging through the mind transfer machine. The Doctor hurtled down the corridor as it began shaking, the metal walls groaning. There was a loud explosion behind him just as the Doctor made it into the lift. More explosions ensued as the blast carried into the other rooms.

"Hold on!" the Doctor cried, sonicking the lift's button panel.

The lift took off like a rocket, its force sending the three of them to the ground. It stopped just as suddenly as it began, the doors opening.

"Well, that could've been better," the Doctor mused, "Could've been worse too. Not that shabby for someone without a plan, eh?"

Miranda didn't reply as she helped Vyre to his feet. "Is this really it then?" he asked the Doctor, "We just sit here and rot?"

The Doctor gave him a small smile, "Or you can live. Humans can make the most of their lives, so can you. Oh, and you might want to discourage any trips to B2. I doubt the lift could even make it down there now."

The pair left Vyre as they walked back into the main lobby. Just before they left, Miranda spotted a very groggy looking Tom Dover rubbing his head. She snorted. I suppose _Clover Dover_ still has a future, she thought to herself as they left the Hillside Homes.

"So, you're really an alien," Miranda said, looking straight ahead.

He glanced at her, "Yeah. Is that a problem?"

Miranda looked at her feet. "No. I suppose it explains a few things… I mean, before I sort of just thought you were, well, a wizard."

The Doctor made an exasperated noise. "Well, that makes sense, I _suppose_. When I'm not called the Doctor, I'm known as Space Gandalf."

"Really?"

"No, I sort of call myself that actually… sometimes," the Doctor shrugged, "Never mind. But yes, for the last time, I am an alien. A Time Lord to be specific, well, Gallifreyan but Time Lord sounds cooler."

She gave a quiet 'hm' in reply but said nothing else. They walked without speaking a few more blocks before Miranda spoke, feeling uncomfortable in the silence.

She groaned and pulled a face, "All I can taste is cinnamon."

"Yeah, me too," the Doctor nodded.

She gave him a look, "What?"

He raised his brows, "Uh… oh look! There's the TARDIS."

Miranda followed his gaze to the tall blue box. "Your spaceship I presume?"

"Yup," he said, beaming.

"I thought it was a time machine."

"It is. It's both. TARDIS, that's Time And Relative Dimensions In Space."

"This isn't like those weird people that give their cars names, is it?"

"Not quite," he replied," And those people aren't weird! I had a car once, a yellow roadster. Named her Bessie. Great car… Getting off track. Sorry. Anyway, no. TARDIS is what she is, not her name. I call her… well, it doesn't matter. I mostly call her TARDIS."

"Huh," she breathed, looking at it skeptically. If she hadn't been inside it, she would have found it hard to believe that the wooden box could make it through a rainstorm let alone the atmosphere. "And you always land your TARDIS a block from my house?"

"Just a coincidence. Besides, she normally parks herself."

"She?"

"Yeah? I know what you're thinking, blue's a masculine color on this planet but imagine a pink police box," he said, "It'd attract too much attention. Normally, she just plays around with shades. Darker, lighter, depends on her mood."

"Of course she does. Your spaceship can think and travels through time-"

"-and space."

"-and looks like a 1960's Police Public Call Box that's bigger on the inside."

"That's right."

"Okay…"

"Would you like to meet her?" the Doctor asked.

"What?"

"The TARDIS. You haven't been properly introduced."

Miranda stopped walking, causing the Doctor to halt as well.

"Oh, I get it," the Doctor drawled, "Alien stereotypes. Don't worry I'm not going to abduct you. Or probe you. Whatever you're worried about."

"I wasn't… thinking that," she said softly.

"Then… do you want to take a ride? Any planet, any time! You name it and we're there," the Doctor grinned.

"I don't think…"

"Okay," he said quickly, catching the drift. "Sorry."

She nodded and he shuffled his feet. "It's just I'm trying to rebuild everything. My life," Miranda said finally, "I'm going to talk to my parents… it's been years and I don't know what I'll tell them but… it's something."

She looked up to see the Doctor giving her a warm smile. "You do just that. If you can take on Videans, your parents should be easy work," he beamed, "You'll be great. Brilliant even! Another case of Miranda Cole succeeding in her trials!"

Miranda gave an embarrassed smile, feeling self conscious under the Doctor's unexpected praise. She nearly gasped as he pulled her into a hug. Her shoulders tensed but she managed to awkwardly pat him on the back until he released her.

The Doctor held her at shoulders length, "My offer still stands, mind you. Something tells me, I'll be seeing you around." He stepped back from her towards the TARDIS. "I'd offer to walk you to your flat but I have things to do. Very important things to do and places to be! You understand. Plus, you seem fine on your own."

She nodded. "Good-bye, Doctor," she said quietly.

The Doctor grinned, "Good-bye, Miranda Cole." Then he was off, having disappeared into the TARDIS.

Miranda bowed her head and began to walk away, towards her flat. A grinding whirling noise sounded behind her, the same she had heard all those months ago. She stopped. Just do it, she urged herself. Miranda ran back to the TARDIS, watching as it began to flicker and disappear from sight. The glow from its blue light and the whirling noise it made finally faded, leaving Miranda staring into an empty alley. That Doctor, she thought as she smiled to herself, he's… very different.

* * *

><p>AN: Let me know what you thought! About the overall "episode", mostly the plot development and aliens. By the way, the planet names Vide and Puto are Latin for 'see' and 'think'.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Didn't expect a fast update, eh? Neither did I. Let me know what you think! Also, I'm curious as to any speculations you might have…

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven: Moving On<p>

_Miranda was falling backwards. Her back hit the ground hard as did her head. The pain was pushed aside however, as she focused on the man in front of her._

"_I know who you are," she heard herself say, "Who you really are." Her voice sounded distant and echoed as if she were in a cave but the land was flat and devoid of any features. It looked as if she was at the bottom of a huge dark box. "I know you're name, Valeyard."_

_He chuckled, the deep hum resonating through to her core. She squared her jaw. "You can't hurt me," she told his approaching form. "You can't… hurt me," she repeated, "Anymore."_

_The Valeyard said nothing as he stood over her. She gulped, looking up at him; the tension between them building in the silence. Slowly, he leaned down, the green of his eyes shining in the shadow of his brow. The corner of his lips tugged up in a small smirk. "Is that so?" he asked quietly._

_Miranda stared at him, "Yes."_

_The smirk didn't leave his lips. Something took place in the span of a second, something Miranda couldn't quite register. She was very unaware of what was happening though she could note each individual event as it occurred. _

_Miranda turned her head sideways. In her line of vision was a silver blade; its engraved words were filled in with dark blood. She could also feel a weight on top of her, or was it the weight of her own body? Her limbs were as lead, too heavy to move. There was a squelching noise, Miranda couldn't identify it. It sounded odd and… wet, a sort of noise like a hundred slimy worms crawling over each other. _

_Then she felt it, the strange sensation of fingers sliding over her ribs, the _underside _of her ribs. Confused, Miranda frowned, lifting her head to see. At first, her mind was unable to comprehend the horror before her. Her torso was flayed open as if she underwent a grim autopsy. The most of her organs were cleared away, lying in bloody piles around her. The culprit knelt over her, his hands currently working on her ribs. _

_Aghast, she stared at the Valeyard who flashed her a grin. He gripped the edges of her ribcage, where it once connected to her sternum and pulled them apart with a sickening crack. She felt no pain. The Valeyard reached into her hollowed out chest and with a swift tug removed something. He held up the bloodied mass of tissue for her to see. _

"_Just, returning the favor, Little Miranda," he grinned._

_It was her heart, she realized. She couldn't live through this one, no. He can't hurt me, she told herself. It's not real. He isn't real. He can't hurt me! Tell him! Tell him he can't… Miranda shook as the Valeyard began laughing. The sound carried out to the far corners of the seemingly endless room and bounced back to invade her hearing. Miranda tried speaking but couldn't even manage a stutter. Her throat closed up as she tried to speak, only a choking sound came out which built to a slow horrified scream._

* * *

><p>The scream died in her throat as Miranda shot up in bed. With a shaking hand, she flung back the white covers. There was no blood, no gaping hole or missing organs. She was okay, her chest intact but continued to tremble, hot tears running down her cheeks. Her fist gripped the thin fabric of her pale blue shirt as she cried, reassuring herself that her heart was very much still beating in her chest. She heard footsteps on the polished floor rushing towards her room but couldn't calm down.<p>

"My heart," she sobbed, "H-he took my heart."

The lights came on, blinding her slightly. She lifted an arm to shield her eyes. She heard the electric lock click and the door open. Through the bright light, she saw a few people walk in.

"You're alright, Miranda," one woman said cautiously.

Miranda sniffed and squinted to see the woman in white. "I don't need help," Miranda cried, pressing her back against the bed frame, "I'm fine!"

The nurse glanced at the other two women in white. She held her hands up defensively, in one was a syringe. "Calm down, hun."

"I'm fine! Just leave me alone!" Miranda shouted.

"We don't want you to hurt yourself," another nurse said, coming up on the other side of the bed.

"If I'm awake, I'll be fine," Miranda growled through her teeth, "Just go."

"You know we can't do that," the first nurse said, nodding at the two opposite her.

They suddenly grabbed Miranda, throwing their weight onto her as she struggled. "No! Leave me alone!" Miranda yelled as they pinned her down. "You don't understand! He'll rip out my heart again! He'll get me!"

She felt a prick of pain in her side as the nurse injected her with an unknown but all too familiar chemical. Miranda cried out, throwing her head back on the mattress in defeat. "I can't go to sleep. Don't make me sleep!"

The nurses skillfully slipped her wrists and ankles into Velcro straps, preventing her from moving more than a few inches. They backed off, looking at their hysterical patient. "You'll feel better in the morning, dear," one said as they exited the room.

Miranda screamed as they locked the door behind them, shutting the lights off moments after. "Leave the lights on," she begged, "I need the lights on! Please!"

She heard them already walking down the hall and shut her eyes tightly. "He's not real," she whispered to herself, "He's gone. He's gone… It's just a nightmare. It's just-"

There was a slight shuffle in the room, the sound of fabric dragging over a floor. Her eyes snapped open to scan the dark room. There was nothing. Nothing was in the black corners of her room but something _was_ there. She could feel it, eyes watching her, boring into her skin. The medicine was kicking in, she reasoned, there's nothing here or I would see it. The shuffling sound came closer.

Miranda tried sitting up in bed, tugging at the restraints on her wrists. She felt dizzy; it was the medicine. She'd be asleep in a few moments. "Nurse," she called out, hoping someone would come back. She couldn't be alone.

The rustle of fabric grew louder, closer. She couldn't be imagining it. "Nurse!" The noise surrounded her bed on all sides. It was as loud as thunder to her ears, like a thousand flags being whipped in a vicious wind. Her eyes widened as she shrank back into the mattress, fearful of the invisible entity.

"DOCTOR!"

* * *

><p>The Doctor flung the TARDIS doors open and hopped out into a snowy street. "Ah! Looks like that snow storm arrived!" he grinned, taking a deep breath, "Nothing like December on earth. Some of the best air in December and normally a low pollen count. That's always good."<p>

He locked the doors behind him and tucked the key in his tweed pocket, giving it a pat. The Doctor trudged through the foot of crisp snow, his boots leaving distinct tracks. "See?" he said to an imaginary Miranda, "Not a block away from your flat _this_ time!" He scratched the back of his neck. "Just a block away from your work place…"

As he neared to the diner, he braced himself for an unwelcome arrival. "Hello, Miranda," he rehearsed outside, "How are things? It's been- what? - a week or so? Plenty of time to get your life together, now can I interest you in a trip to 18th century France? How about the planet Raxacoricofallapatorius? No…? Well, would you like to help me solve the mystery of your childhood trauma and find out who or what caused it?"

The Doctor sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. He pushed open the door that sounded with a small bell as he entered. He noticed a new waitress and eyed her curiously before getting Laura's attention. "Hello! Is Miranda working a different shift now?" he asked.

"Miranda?" she echoed, giving him a confused look, "She 'asn't worked 'ere in forevah. Left some time after you threw in the towel actually. I 'ad to pick up all the slack, thanks a lot!"

The Doctor frowned. "Right, sorry… You said Miranda hasn't worked here in forever. How is that possible? It's only been a week since I left."

Laura scoffed, "That's a good one. Look I've got to get back to work or else the boss lady'll 'ave my 'ead."

"Boss lady? Boss _lady_?" the Doctor repeated incredulously, "What happened to Mr. Walton?"

"Well 'e 'anded the business over to 'is sister a few months ago. Where 'ave you been?"

The Doctor frowned. "Months ago…? Where does Miranda work now? Why 'd she leave?"

Laura shrugged, "Beats me but look, unless you're gonna order somethin', I 'ave to get back to work."

He stared after her for a moment, trying to piece things together. "_Months_?" he repeated to himself. He Doctor spotted a man reading a newspaper and went over to him. He leaned over the table, tilting his head slightly to read the front page. "2012!" he cried, startling the man.

"It's December 24, 2012!" the Doctor exclaimed, "I've been gone a year! A year!"

Finally, he noticed the stares from the other people and waved uneasily. "Oh... Hello," he uttered before attempting to casually walk out of the diner. Once outside, his eyes went wide and he raked his hands through his hair. "A _year_! Well, a year and some days but, really? REALLY? This is _always_ happening! I jump ahead too far! Five minutes is twelve years, a week is a year- there's not even a consistent pattern!" He sighed. "I've got to be the worst time traveler since Skoodge the Unfortunate…"

The Doctor looked around at the snow covering buildings and spotted the top of Ellsworth Flats. "Alright. Different time, same objective- solve the Miranda mystery. It'll probably be easier this way," he said to himself, "She's had more time to normalize things… so it'll be that much harder to convince her to come along. This... is going to be more awkward than usual."

* * *

><p>The Doctor shook the snow from his boots before entering Ellsworth Flats. "Can I help you?" a man asked from behind the lobby desk.<p>

"Oh, no. Just visiting a _friend_," he replied, heading into the lift.

It opened with a ding as he stepped onto the fourth floor. He approached room 407 and hesitated slightly. His fingers twitched just before knocking four times and then a fifth. Just to be safe. The knob jingled and the Doctor quickly straightened his red bow tie. The door opened and his smile faltered. Standing in the doorway was a very large and imposing man.

"Yeah?" the man asked, looking irked.

The Doctor glanced at the small plaque on the door that read 407. It was the correct room, all right. "I'm looking for Miranda," the Doctor stated, "Is she in?"

"Miranda _who_?"

The Doctor blinked. "Miranda… who lives here?"

The man scowled. "You've got the wrong room," he said then shut the door in the Doctor's face.

Undaunted, the Doctor knocked on the door again and it opened swiftly. He seemed to be oblivious to the bulky man's anger and the fact that he could snap him in half at any given moment. "Actually, this is the _right_ room," the Doctor stated, "I take it you're not her boyfriend or friend or any sort since you didn't know her by name. Unless, of course, she's living under an alias but that's unlikely."

"Look, there's no one living here aside from me," the man growled, "Your girlfriend must've moved out awhile ago because I've been here for over six months."

The Doctor stuck his foot out to stop the door from closing and added, "For the record, she isn't my girlfriend."

The man snorted, "I don't give a rat's arse if you're her stalker. Now sod off!" With an expression that said I-dare-you-to-knock-one-more-time, he slammed the door.

Somewhat offended, the Doctor frowned and tugged his sleeves down involuntarily. "I'm not a stalker," he pouted, "I'm not stalking her… _exactly_."

"Is someone slamming doors?"

The Doctor turned to find the landlord walking down the hall. "Wendell!" the Doctor beamed, "Just the person I wanted to see, well, not really but you'll do."

"Do I know you?" he asked, his face contorting in a look of confusion.

"We met last year on the roof. I was helping Miranda with her- er sleepwalking."

Wendell's eyes lit up with recognition, "Ah, yes, the Doctor fellow. What can I help you with?"

"I'm _here_ to inquire about Miranda…"

"Miranda Cole? Oh how is she?"

The Doctor blinked, "I was hoping you could tell me."

Wendell frowned, "I thought you were her doctor."

"I am. No, silly me, I _was_. Do you know where she's living now?"

"Well, no. I actually didn't know she moved out until the movers came in."

"The movers? They must've had directions to move her belongings to _somewhere_," the Doctor pressed.

"I don't know where _she_ went but her things went to a storage facility," Wendell explained, "Her parents mentioned it when they came by to pay off her rent and end her lease. It's strange though, I swear I saw her father before but I can't place it…"

"Right," the Doctor drawled, "And this storage facility is… where?"

Wendell shrugged, "The closest one about twenty minutes away, across the intersection. My guess is they'd take it there."

The Doctor considered this. "Thank you, Wendell," he said then took off, leaving Wendell staring.

"Um, yeah," the befuddled landlord muttered.

* * *

><p>The Doctor slowly walked backwards in the spacious yellow room, blue garage doors lining either side of him. He pointed at each door, ticking off a number in his head, lips silently moving along with the count. As he pointed at the twenty-second to last in a row of fifty, the Doctor grinned.<p>

"Two hundred twenty-eight C!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the vast empty room.

He trotted over and made quick work of the lock with his sonic screwdriver. Lifting the ribbed metal hatch up and over his head, the Doctor stared into the dark storage room. He flipped the switch on the side of the wall. The storage container was crammed full of boxes and furniture that he recognized came from Miranda's flat. His eyes landed on a bare mattress leaning against the back wall. On it were numerous blood stains, a sick reminder of Miranda's hellish nightmares. The Doctor's face darkened and he forced himself to look away.

"It's safe to assume she didn't need furniture wherever she moved to," he mused, "But why store it?"

The Doctor's mind was whirring as he carefully weaved through the room to peek into the mound of boxes. In one were kitchen supplies; in another were miscellaneous items like a pair of tennis rackets, a broken clock and a hairdryer. One rather large box caught his attention and he opened it. Inside were clothes, a lot of clothes. He picked up one, recognizing it as the coat Miranda was wearing when they met at the Hillside Homes.

"Why would she leave her clothes? Why would any woman leave her clothes behind?" the Doctor asked, dropping the coat back in the box, "She wouldn't… unless she up and joined a nudist colony but that's even more unlikely than her living under an alias."

Quickly, the Doctor heaved the clothes' box out of the pile and dug into the remaining boxes. He stopped as he found one filled with papers, novels and notebooks. He flipped through a few, ignoring the sketches of the Valeyard and the shadowy figures. There was one book he was after, one that could provide some light on the subject. At the very bottom of the box, he found it.

The Doctor reached in and took out a book with a worn leather cover and a small lock that was undone. "Tell me what happened, Miranda," he said softly.

_12-19-11_

_It's about …two in the morning and I can't sleep, as per usual. Obviously. I've filled this book with more rubbish than actual decent entries as of late. I'm going to need a new book soon. It's been such shit these past few months. Aside from the lack of torture (something you don't say everyday), things haven't changed much. Well. That's not counting the great dose of paranoia I've come down with recently. _

_What's worse? __Thinking__ something's watching you or __knowing __something's watching you? ...Or not being able to tell the difference?_

_Sometimes, I really think I'm going balmy. But that's the Catch 22; a crazy person doesn't know they're crazy. So what in the bleeding hell am I?_

He skipped through the rest of the entry and moved onto the next, dated two days later. "That was when I left her," the Doctor said to himself.

_12-21-11_

_I watched this time. I watched him and his blue box disappear. There's my closure I suppose although in the pit of my stomach I still feel like it isn't over. I'm surprised I believed him and more surprised that I still do. An alien time traveler? You know it's a mad world when THAT sort of explanation makes sense._

_There's no reason to recount the fiasco at the retirement home- I doubt I'll be forgetting it any time soon. But just in case, as a note to myself: watch out for old folks. _

_Okay. It's been a long day so I'm off. Going to scrub the cinnamon from my mouth and pass out for a night of fitful sleep. Hopefully._

_12-22-11_

_I am so nervous. My parents are coming over in about an hour to talk. The first face to face in how many years? I don't know what to say or do, what I should tell them. Maybe I should just be honest? They're still my parents after all… I don't know. I'm thinking too much and making myself sick. Perhaps I'll take one out of the Doctor's book and not plan out anything… Yeah right. I'm going to go puke up my breakfast and hope for the best._

_12-22-11 (later than the previous entry)_

_How many ways can I describe the encounter with my parents? A number of words come to mind such as fiasco, catastrophe, disaster, failure, calamity, an appalling monstrosity that would even make the Modern Prometheus reel back in horror, the worst train wreck ever imaginable and then set on fire and thrown over cliff in a flaming ball of misery comparable to Dante's Inferno, an epic tragedy worthy of the Greeks, a blazing pile of-_

The Doctor jumped down on the page, passing over the page and a half of foul curses and graphic metaphors that so described the meeting.

_I think you get the idea of how it went. I should have known they wouldn't understand. I'm such a bleeding idiot! _

_I told them everything. I didn't mean to it just... happened. Mum was quick to the point, asking if I was done hurting myself so I tried explaining (again) that it wasn't me! We started yelling and I couldn't keep making up weird excuses for what had happened so I started telling them the truth. About the Valeyard and how he entered my mind as a child. About the Doctor and how he helped me fight him off. I left out the part of his being an alien and a time traveler though, as if the story was otherwise believable. The whole thing kind of sounded like an exorcism but it seemed more credible than the _full_ truth._

_When I had finished, mum wouldn't stop crying and dad wouldn't even look at me. _

_Again, I asserted that I was fine now. That the Valeyard wasn't physically hurting me (leaving out the emotional trauma, of course) but they didn't believe a word I said. Dad stormed out first. He's still angry that my 'mental business' had cost him that election years ago. In his eyes, I was still his crazy daughter. Mum lagged behind, trying to convince me to get help. She got steamed when I blatantly refused to get professional counseling and medication. She thinks I'm totally barmy. They both do. I ended up throwing her out, crying myself._

_I really want to hate them. I really do. But in anyone else's position, who would believe me? I can't really blame them. But I can blame __**him**__. For doing this to me, just leaving me here to deal with everything on my own. I can't hate my parents but I can hate him._

The Doctor stared at the page, brows furrowed and lips frowning slightly. He wore a somber expression as he read the next entry.

_12-23-2011_

_She keeps calling. I made the mistake of answering once. Mummy's done playing the concerned and distressed mother. Now she means business. Leaving me threatening messages, saying that if I don't get help, she'll force it on me. "For my own good"- that's her new favorite phrase. She wants me to go to a place called Bybilis Institute. I looked it up- it's a nut house. Thanks but no thanks, mum!_

_She threatened to bring in the National Guard but I doubt she has that power. Perhaps if she and dad weren't cut off from our family's connections, I'd be worried. I just have to wait it out. It'll be a tiresome few months but she'll back down. She always does._

_I've unplugged the phone and answering machine but even in the silence I can still hear the incessant ringing. Maybe I should just move. Just drop off the face of the earth and never hear from them again. It sounds like a good idea but I can think of too many things that could go wrong. The lack of funds for one. A second job isn't an option- I can barely keep my head with one. Also-_

_Never mind, someone's banging on the door. It won't be her. She knows that if I'm not willing to talk to her, I won't be willing to see her. It's probably Mr. Johnson here to complain about the screaming **again**. I'll be sure to let you know how awkward it goes…_

That was it, the Doctor realized, flipping the page over. That was the last entry. A worried look crossed his face. She never reported back to the diary. A whole _year_ passed and she didn't record a single thing. The last thing he knew _for certain_ that she did was answer the door.

"Miranda answered a door and no one heard from her again," he said to himself, "She left her work, her apartment and her belongings all at once. And something tells me it wasn't voluntary…"

The Doctor glanced back at her diary, eyes stopping on the words _Bybilis Institute_.

"Something _also_ tells me that mummy didn't back down this time."


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thank you all for the reviews! They definitely motivate me to keep writing faster!

On another note, here's a random picture of Matt Smith… (remove the space before and after the '.')

http:/i . dailymail . co . uk/i/pix/2011/08/06/article-2021929-0D4C871500000578-414_634x759 . jpg

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><p>Chapter Eight: A Change of Chants<p>

The Bybilis Institute was an expansive building, having once been a mansion home to England's finest. Since being converted to a hospital and care facility, the mansion had two additions built on either side of the original building, giving it a blocky 'U' shape. With its slanted peach roofing and tall white stone walls, it stood proud on its five hundred acres of land. Aside from the paths shoveled for walk and driveways, a thick blanket of snow covered the grounds and glinted in the high noon sun on the Institute, giving it a pristine and clean look.

As the Doctor strode up the somewhat imposing fortress, his mind was not on such matters of its history and design. He was here on business, very personal business. The sort of business that wasn't quite legal or remotely acceptable on this planet but that didn't slow him down any. Even in his younger years, the Doctor never had a problem going against authority, especially when he knew they were wrong and moreover, when he knew he was right. This was going to be as easy as pie- eating the pie, not baking one, that is. Baking could prove difficult.

The Doctor opened the main door and stepped inside onto the polished marble floor. Immediately before him was a rounded desk at which four uniformed women were stationed behind computers. He took out a black wallet from his back pocket and put on his best smile. As he approached one of the women looked up at him and did a double take.

"I know you!" she exclaimed, her large glasses sliding down her nose.

The Doctor's smile faltered. "You do?"

"Oh, of course. Look here, Barb, he's an _actual_ person!"

The women beside her looked at the Doctor with a surprised expression. "Well what d'you know, Janet. Looks like I lost that bet with Davey- don't tell him."

Janet grinned and nodded at the Doctor. "You must be here to see Ms. Cole, then."

"Uh, I- yes. How'd you know?" he asked, tucking his psychic paper away.

The nurse scoffed, "As if I wouldn't recognize that face. She paints you all the time. I'd say you were her favorite subject."

"She paints me?" the Doctor asked, somewhat alarmed.

"Why, yes. See, we encourage our patients' self expression here at Bybilis. Also says a lot about what goes on up there," she tapped the side of her head.

"She paints _me_?" he repeated, uncomfortably.

The nurse gave him an odd look, "That's what I said. Here, I'll show you. Ms. Cole's on lunch break anyhow."

Janet excused herself, saying she had to do her rounds. The Doctor followed her down a few bright corridors, each of which he memorized. He cocked his head to the side, listening to the music playing over the speakers. "Carol of the Bells?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh, right. Yes, it is. Sometimes I forget it's playing! It was an idea by our head, Dr. Kenworth. We play over 40 different versions of the song during the holiday season."

"Non-stop?" the Doctor asked as one song ended and another version followed.

"Mm hmm," Janet nodded, "Music is said to sooth troubled minds."

The Doctor gave her a skeptical look that she didn't catch. "But the _same_ song? It's a great song, don't get me wrong. Did you know it was originally a Ukrainian folk song about a swallow speaking about a bountiful year? Nothing to do with Christmas at all. I'll tell you- be careful what you hum around composers. But that's beside the point! My _point_ was, repetition in itself is a form of insanity so playing the same song really can't help all that much."

Janet shrugged. "I disagree. Since most of the people here _are_ certifiably insane, they enjoy familiarity."

"And those who don't enjoy it, then?"

"They endure and get used it to. It helps them along the road to improvement."

"That's debatable," the Doctor muttered under his breath.

As the two walked through a corridor lined with paintings, the Doctor stopped. He frowned, looking at them. "They're all the same."

"Hm?" Janet turned around and smiled. "Ooh, the paintings- the infamous Ward 7. For some reason, they started copying each other a while ago. That's all they paint."

"What is it supposed to be?" the Doctor asked, tilting his head. In the center of the canvas was a purple shape with three prongs at the bottom, one on the end shorter than the others.

"Abstract."

"Maybe," he replied, "It sort of looks like a wonky 'W' or a misshaped arrow… or the ancient rune of Ansuz."

"An ancient rune?"

"Yeah, never mind," the Doctor dismissed, "It's a bit too rounded and out of proportion to be Ansuz."

Nurse Janet cleared her throat. "Well, Ms. Cole's is just around the bend, Ward 8. If you're ready…?"

The Doctor gave one last scrutinizing look at the canvases before following the nurse around the corner.

"Ah, here we are. We keep most of her artwork in the _less used_ halls... They tend to upset the other patients," Nurse Janet said, "Now, don't let it scare you. Every couple has _issues_; this is just her way of expressing them."

"Couple? No, no, we're not… Why would you think we're a couple?"

"Well, _hearts_ are often the focus of her paintings," Janet said, "I might be reading into it too much but I think she suffered a heartbreak- who hasn't right? It might've been why her _little_ _episodes_ started up again. But don't blame yourself, of course."

The Doctor gave her a sidelong glance. "You… might be reading into it too much," he said and she shrugged.

They stopped in front of a medium canvas hanging on the wall and the nurse pointed up at it. "This is her latest," she told him. The Doctor's eyebrows rose as he saw it. She had used oil pastels instead of her typical black charcoal, giving the piece a hauntingly realistic look. On the canvas was his own likeness down on his knees with a horrified expression on his face as if he were screaming in agony. His shirt was ripped open, showing a gaping hole in his torso stretching from his navel to bow tie, his entrails spilling out. In each hand was a heart, bloody and dripping into a crimson pool around him. The Doctor hoped, he _really_ hoped, that Miranda hadn't had him in mind when painting it.

* * *

><p>Miranda hated meals more than anything during her period of living at Bybilis. Not only was the food horrendous but daily doses of medication were administered then. On her tray of plastic tasting food was a small disposable cup filled with an assortment of colorful pills. She didn't know what they were exactly- when she had asked before, she was deemed as acting out and forced to stay in her room during recreation hour. Not that she minded but she ended up having to take the medication anyway. It made her tired and somewhat dizzy to the point where she couldn't think straight. After a year of living there, she had developed a system to avoid ingesting the nonsense. Miranda had become skilled at her sleight of hand, discreetly slipping her pills into either the cuff of her sleeve or the front of her slippers. Once back in her room, she would tuck them into a small hole in her mattress. So far, none of the monitors caught on.<p>

That wasn't what she hated most about mealtime though. What Miranda hated above all was that sitting there, she felt crazy. Being surrounded by so many people who actually _were_ insane made her question so many things. Why was she there? What if things had gone differently? Was she going to spend the rest of her life there? Would she go insane? Would being insane be better? The inane yelling, the senseless jabbering and occasional fits of the other patients used to reduce Miranda to tears each day. Now, she ignored it and blocked out everything to get by. She would sit at a table of quiet patients, ones who she noticed didn't say or do much, and refrain from making eye contact until the meal was over.

"I'm not crazy," she said to herself, her voice less than a whisper. "I'm not crazy."

Suddenly, one of the patients at the table across from hers stood up, a tall skinny man with greying hair. She didn't know him. He started making gagging noises and hitting the table, causing those around him to shout. Miranda glanced up with her eyes, keeping her head down. Was he choking? She saw a few of the monitors approaching; he'll be fine. Before she could look away, however, the man lurched forward, gripping the table with his hands and vomited onto his plate. Miranda cringed at the sound, feeling her own stomach squirm, but then froze as she noticed something very peculiar. His sick was black, pitch black, as if he had eaten nothing but charcoal or something of that nature. And then the man collapsed. Miranda blinked and ducked her head further, not wanting to watch anymore as security called in a stretcher to take him to med bay.

I'm not crazy, she stated again, chanting another chorus of her mantra. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy.

She stared at her empty plate, trying to think of constellations that matched the meatloaf crumbs. It often helped her to focus on something and her childhood hobby seemed to fill the void very well. Canis Major, she thought to herself. She used her plastic spoon to move the crumbs around on the plate.

"Cassiopeia," she whispered, "The Queen…"

"Are you finished, Ms. Cole?"

Miranda's heart jumped but she managed to remain still. The monitor had snuck up on her. She didn't look at him but answered, "Yes."

"You have a visitor," he told her, "Come with me."

She stood and slowly walked out of the mess hall with the monitor, careful to keep her medication from slipping past her toes. The monitor's name was Barry; balding and somewhat stocky. He looked like a pushover but Miranda had once seen him tackle a giant of a patient to the ground who had a sharpened plastic spoon. She didn't mess with Barry.

In the year that Miranda lived at Bybilis Institute, she had only received four visits from people on the outside. It was her mother every time. She would ask Miranda the same unanswered questions. How are you feeling? Are you taking your medication? Are you talking to the doctors? Don't you want to feel better? Don't you know this is for your own good? Do you remember who I am? Can you hear me?

But Mrs. Cole had stopped with her visits months ago, saying that her daughter was killing her and couldn't stand to see her in that state. Miranda had been relieved when the nurse told her the news of her mother's refusal to see her but this sudden visit made her feel sick. Of course, it's near the holidays, Miranda thought dryly, what better time to check in when you're feeling sentimental?

Barry led her to the visitor's room, a small cubed space with a bolted down table and two folding chairs. It also had a glass mirror on the right side but it was really a viewing window in case the patients attack the visitors. Barry opened the door for her, "Take a seat. They'll be in shortly."

They? Did her father come too or was it a slip of the tongue? Were her parents going to tell her bad news? That she was officially stuck here or that she was being moved to a higher security ward? Miranda sat down on the cold metal chair, eyes focused on the reflections on the clean table surface. She could see the light fixture and its yellowed glow. If she could keep her gaze fixed on that light, she could make it through this session. She stopped herself from wringing her hands under the table. A flute ensemble of Carol of the Bells filtered in through the door. Miranda started wringing her hands again. Don't look at your mother or your father, if he's there, and don't look at your reflection, Miranda thought to herself.

* * *

><p>The Doctor looked at Miranda from behind the tinted glass, silently fuming. She looked horrible to say the least, more unhealthy and troubled than when he left her. She was paler than he remembered but not stepping into the sun for a year could do that to someone. Her hair was a little longer then before but had more tangles in it as well; the caramel color that it had been was dull and hung around her face in long strings. Miranda's demeanor was drastically different and more withdrawn. She sat with her shoulders hunched defensively, hands in her lap and eyes downcast.<p>

"It must be hard to see her like this," Nurse Janet said softly.

The Doctor blinked and forced himself to look away. "It is," he said evenly. "I'd like to talk to her now."

Janet nodded. "Alright, I'll buzz you in."

"I'd like to talk to her without an audience," the Doctor said firmly.

Nurse Janet frowned, "I'm sorry. It's against procedure."

"Make an exception."

"I really can't… If you were to get injured or something was to happen, I could lose my job _or worse_."

"Five minutes," the Doctor pressed, "Nothing will happen."

Janet sighed, looking back at Miranda. "Five minutes," she agreed and the Doctor left to go to the next room. "But only because she doesn't have a violent record!" she called after him and sighed again.

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor entered the room. He stood at the door as it shut behind him. When Miranda didn't look up, he walked over to the table and took the seat opposite her. He stared at her a moment, saying nothing. This close up, she looked worse, hollow and lifeless. She wasn't sleeping, he noted. He could see the purplish crescents beneath her eyes were darker, making her look sickly.

"Miranda," he said softly.

Her eyes went into focus but she still didn't look up. The Doctor saw her tense slightly and the slight rise and fall of her shoulders stopped- she was holding her breath. He leaned on the table, his hands folded loosely in front of him.

"Miranda, if I had known what had happened, I would have been here sooner," he told her, "There was a mix up in the time circuits; I arrived here much later than anticipated. As soon as I found out…"

He paused, "I want to help you but you have to talk to me. No one else is listening."

She responded by bowing her head, her hair shielding most of her face from sight. "You haven't been sleeping," the Doctor said, "I need you to tell me why."

Miranda let out a shuddering breath, not allowing herself to cry. Tentatively, she slid a trembling hand onto the table to grab his and then the other. The Doctor returned the gesture wholeheartedly, his large hands taking hers. Miranda's chewed nails scraped against the inside of his fingers as she tightened her grip.

"I-it doesn't s-stop," Miranda said quietly, "I k-keep telling him he can't hu-urt me but h-he doesn't listen."

"Who?" the Doctor urged, looking at her seriously.

Miranda kept her head down. "_Him_."

The Doctor quickly took his sonic out, one hand still on hers. He scanned around her head, aware that only three minutes had past and Nurse Janet wouldn't be watching. The Doctor looked the bulb of the screwdriver.

"Only one psychic frequency," he said, "Yours. He's not back. He _can't_ come back."

She nodded, "I know but I k-keep having nightmares."

"Are you being hurt?"

She shook her head. "No," she whispered, "They're just nightmares but… it scares me."

The Doctor rubbed the back of her hand sympathetically. "There's nothing to be afraid of anymore, Miranda."

She went still, her hands stopped shaking and she finally lifted her head. Her grave eyes met his and she whispered, "Yes, there is."

His brows met in the middle as he regarded her. He knew better than to discount her fears so easily with simple phrases like 'You're imagining things' or 'Don't be silly'. That's what the doctors and staff here would say but he was _the_ Doctor- he would never. Miranda Cole had spent nearly her whole life trying to escape her nightmares; she wouldn't conjure up new fears from thin air. The Doctor had seen that desperate look in her eyes before.

"Tell me what you're afraid of."

Miranda glanced at the two-way mirror then settled her eyes on their hands. She spoke softly, her lips barely moving. "Something's following me."

"What?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"I don't know… I can't see it," Miranda replied, blinking away tears threatening to spill over her lashes. "There's something in the dark. I hear things moving when nothing's there. Like a curtain moving in the wind, but there's no wind… I can feel something watching me. I feel eyes on me when I'm alone… Only when I'm alone."

She looked up to see the Doctor's reaction. He was looking at her seriously, with a small frown on his face. She bit her lip, unsure if he believed her. "I'm not crazy," she said, hoping to affirm it. "I'm not imagining it… I'm not."

The Doctor gave her shaking hands a squeeze and looked her dead in the eyes as he spoke, "You're not crazy, Miranda Cole."

Miranda gave a quick laugh that came out like a gasp. It was more than a relief to hear someone else say it to her. "Help me?" she implored.

"I'm going to get you out of here," he told her.

The door opened and Miranda returned to her defensive posture, releasing the Doctor's hands. He turned to Nurse Janet. "Alright," she said to them, "I'm afraid time's up."

"Could I spend more time with her?" he asked the nurse, "I was... just starting to get through."

Nurse Janet considered him and nodded. "Okay, but you'll have to be supervised. I'll show you around the facility. Would you like that, Miranda?"

Miranda nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Alright, then," Nurse Janet smiled at her, "Shall we?"

* * *

><p>"And <em>this<em> is the arts and crafts room," Janet grinned, entering a room filled with art supplies. "Do you want to show- oh, sorry, I didn't get your name!"

"The Doctor," he said on instinct.

"The doctor… is your _name_?" Nurse Janet asked, confused.

"That's who Miranda identifies me as," the Doctor said matter of factly, "Long story, don't ask."

"O-okay," the nurse nodded then turned to Miranda, "Would you like to show _the Doctor_ your work space?"

Miranda stood rooted next to the Doctor, not wanting to enter the room and keep up the nurse's happy tour. She merely raised her arm and pointed to an easel in the corner. "That's right," she heard the nurse say; "She's normally a bit more responsive. Seeing you must have been a surprise… but a _good_ surprise, right, Miranda?"

She said nothing in response to the nurse. This was degrading- treating her like a child… like a _loon_.

"Oh, look at that!" Nurse Janet cried happily, causing Miranda to glance at her in annoyance. She was pointing above them. "Mistletoe!"

The two looked up to find that there was indeed a branch of mistletoe hanging in the doorway over their heads. Simultaneously, they glanced at each other, both looking uneasy. Miranda suddenly put a hand to her mouth. "I feel sick," she gasped then quickly ran out of the room.

"Aw, don't feel bad. She'll come around," the nurse said sympathetically.

"I'm… _really_ not that worried," the Doctor replied, nervously watching the mistletoe as he stepped out from under it.

* * *

><p>Miranda leaned against the wall for support; her stomach was tying itself in knots. It was either that meatloaf or her terrible nerves making her sick, or both. She shut her eyes for a moment, listening to the end notes of Carol of the Bells played on wine glasses. And to think she used to like the song.<p>

A door opened in front of her and a man stumbled out, coughing violently. She identified him immediately as Dr. Kenworth. The tall lank man had met with Miranda and her parents before admitting her; he had diagnosed her himself. She could recognize his thinning blonde hair and piercing grey eyes from a kilo away. Miranda didn't care much for him and openly glared when he saw her there.

Dr. Kenworth eyed her for a moment and looked around. "Are you by yourself?" he asked her, surprised. Miranda stared him down while cursing him in her head.

"Nurse?" he called and Miranda could hear hurried footsteps. "Nurse, what are you doing, leaving a patient unattended?" Dr. Kenworth asked harshly.

"So sorry, Dr. Kenworth!" Nurse Janet said, taking Miranda by the arm, "I was showing her visitor around and she ran off."

"Visitor?"

"That would be me," the Doctor said, stepping into the picture.

Dr. Kenworth regarded him with narrowed eyes. "I don't recall permitting her visitors _outside_ of her family."

Nurse Janet flushed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Well, you didn't say otherwise, sir. I-I didn't see any harm."

"_No one_ is to see Ms. Cole without appointment," Dr. Kenworth snapped, "Now see Ms. Cole to her room and escort _this fellow_ out."

"Yes, sir," the nurse nodded sheepishly.

"Good," he replied, breaking into another fit of coughs.

"Nasty cough," the Doctor commented.

"It's nothing," he growled in reply.

"Actually, it sounds like it could be serious."

Dr. Kenworth shot him a look. "It's not!" he hissed before storming down the hall, his white coat flapping behind him.

Miranda shivered which didn't go unnoticed by the Doctor. He frowned at her then looked away, pushing his thoughts aside.

"Seems like a nice guy," he said, once Kenworth was out of earshot.

"I'm sorry about all this," Nurse Janet said, "I should have followed protocol. I just assumed you made an appointment and… Oh, well, Miranda needs to get back to her room now. You should probably come too; I can't let visitors wander…"

The upbeat tune of Carol of the Bells only made Miranda feel more upset as the trio walked towards Ward 8. She felt as if she were marching to the gallows. Only the gallows would be a mercy compared to this hell, Miranda thought. Each step was an effort that she had to force herself to continually carry out. All too soon, she found herself outside of the door to her room, her _cell_ more like. The nurse slid her ID card in a slot beside the door and the electric lock clicked. She opened the door and ushered Miranda inside with a shooing motion.

"I'll… let you say good-bye," Janet said, stepping aside.

Miranda didn't realize she was shaking until she was standing still. She looked at the Doctor questioningly, "I thought you said…?"

"I meant it," he said, understanding her unfinished question, "But it's too risky now."

"You're… leaving," she said flatly.

The Doctor placed his hands on the sides of her head, making eye contact. "I'm coming back."

She stared at him, eyes wide, as the nurse started walking over to them. The Doctor quickly kissed her forehead and took a step back into the hall, looking away. The door closed, leaving Miranda standing there numbly. She waited until she couldn't hear their footsteps over the carol and stiffly sat down on her mattress.

He's coming back, she told herself. "He's coming back... He's coming back... He's coming back..."


	9. Chapter 9

AN: So there was a bit of a delay as I completely reworked the plot of this "episode" arc (Edit: TWICE!). I think its better this way. Such a belated Christmas special, this is. Lol. Also, so excited for Season 7- they started filming! :D

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><p>Chapter Nine: Footprints and Handprints<p>

Miranda lay on her mattress, eyes shut and hands over her ears, drowning out the potentially threatening sounds of the night.

"Andromeda, Bootes, Cassiopeia, Draco, Equuleus, Fornax, Gemini."

She ticked off constellations alphabetically, naming one for each letter. This was the fifth round of her 'game' and she was starting to fidget. She focused on the sound of her voice, trying to keep her mind off of everything.

"Hydra, Indus… Lepus, Mensa… Norma, Orion, Pegasus." Her mind was beginning to slow as fatigue set in. "Reticulum… Scorpius, Taurus, Ursa… Minor… Vela…"

She slowly opened her eyes and sat up in bed, waiting. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but it didn't put her at ease. Miranda leaned against the bed frame, pulling her knees to her chest.

"What are the closest stars?" she asked herself quietly, trying to fill the silence. She licked her chapped lips and shut her eyes. "There's the Sun, of course… and Proxima Centauri. And… Alpha Centauri A and B, Wolf 35..9, Barnard's Star, Epsilon Eridani…"

She could have sworn she heard something outside. Was it the jingle of keys? Maybe not. A security officer making his rounds most likely. She paused, listening to the feint melody of Carol of the Bells. For the most part, she could drown out the incessant carol on the loudspeaker but every once in awhile, it would creep into her hearing. The song was beginning to worm through her concentration but she tried forcing it from her thoughts as a wave of nervousness swept over her. Miranda was on edge, straining her ears to hear over the music. When she heard nothing more, she rested her chin on her knees.

"Sirius A… Sirius B… Lalande 21185, Ross 154, 248 and…128," she resumed, "EZ Aquarii A, B and C… Procyon A, Procyon…. B."

She definitely heard something this time. Sitting up straighter, she stared at the door. The electric lock clicked out of place and in a flash, she scurried under the sheets, feigning sleep. The music grew louder as the door opened.

"…_Sweet silver bells, All seem to say, throw cares away. Christmas is here, bringing good cheer, To young and old, meek and the bold. Ding dong, Ding dong…"_

She forced herself to breathe- sleeping people don't hold their breath. The music was muted out again as the door quietly shut. Was someone in the room? Someone or something was always in her room so could she really tell the difference? Cautiously, she cracked open an eye and upon seeing no one, opened them fully. Propping herself on her elbows, Miranda looked around her room and then at her door. Was this a trap?

Miranda slipped out of bed and went to the door; it was unlocked. There was no one around, she noted as she peeked out. These doors don't just open on their own though, she reasoned, someone opened it. Did he come back? The thought leapt to her mind before she could stop it. If he had, she thought, where is he? It seemed too odd, too suspicious. But Miranda wasn't an idiot- golden opportunities like this were rare. Despite the risks, she couldn't pass up this chance.

Carefully, she crept down the hall, her bare feet making no sound on the cool marble floor. The tall barred windows illuminated the corridors, bathing her in a pale light. The choir over the speaker system softly sang Carol of the Bells, fully enveloping her in the surreal atmosphere.

"_Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas. On, on they send, on without end, their joyful tone to every home. Hark! How the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away…"_

There really was no way of escape. She had never made any attempts herself but had seen a handful- all of which failed. Although the converted mansion was huge, there were enough guards and nurses on duty to ensure she couldn't pass unnoticed. Walking out the front door just wasn't an option.

She walked over to the window, eying the bars on the outside. Could she fit through them? Sure it was a long way from the bottom but she could climb down somehow… right? The windows weren't supposed to open but were made of _glass_. She could find a hard object to shatter it, maybe. The noise would be unpreventable but if she was quick… It was a farfetched plan, she knew but she had to try, didn't she? She couldn't just stand there, waiting to be caught and locked up again.

Miranda peered out into the night which wasn't as dark as she expected. The sky was dimly lit and clouded over, a grayish periwinkle color. It was snowing, she noticed as she gazed out the window. The flurries were coming down heavily, obscuring her view with a veil of swift-moving white lace. For a brief moment, she felt at peace. Bybilis Institute seemed to melt away and from her viewpoint, she could have been gazing out of a window in her old apartment if she ignored the bars on the outside, of course. She leaned closer to the smooth glass, her breath fogging it slightly. Her forehead rested on the cool surface as she stared out into the distance. Then she blinked, a noise startling her.

She turned and stopped breathing for a moment as all of her brain activity was focused on trying to discern if she had actually heard something this time and not only imagined it. She heard something, hadn't she? From the other end of the hall? A dull tap, it sounded like. Was it…? There it was again! Quickly, she dashed around the corner to hide.

She paused, pressed against the white stone wall of Ward 8, listening. A lone set of footsteps stumbled down the hall, the soles of the shoes made her frown. They were hard, making distinct tapping sounds- not like the rubber bottom sneakers the nurses wore or the worn soles the guards used. This was someone who didn't patrol the halls at night, someone new. Miranda drew in a deep breath as a thought arose in her chest. Did he come back? She didn't move, trying to hear over the music. Each step was distinct and slow like the precise ticks of a clock; the person walked with purpose. The footsteps stopped in Ward 7; they weren't coming for her. Although this was good news, her chest felt heavier.

Crouching low to the ground, Miranda peeked around the corner. She frowned at seeing the tall man there, standing at a patient's door with his long white coat and thinning blonde hair. Curiosity forced her to watch as Dr. Kenworth slid his ID card in their door and opened it. He went inside and came out a moment later, the patient following him silently. With closer inspection, she saw that there was a strange device around the patient's neck; it appeared to be a metal collar of sorts. What the... Miranda turned away as he opened the next door, fearful that she'd be seen.

Something wasn't right but she stayed put. She couldn't hear what else was happening. Dr. Kenworth was otherwise silent aside from the one instance where he began coughing violently. Miranda had jumped as he slammed his fist on the wall, the thud louder than normal. He cursed under his breath and then was quiet again. Carol of the Bells filled the tense silence as she waited which made her feel even tenser. After a few long moments which was actually five minutes, she dared to look back around the corner. The hall was empty, she saw, and all of the doors in Ward 7 were wide open.

She stepped out into the hall, despite her better judgment. Again, curiosity urged her forward, towards the open doors. This was just so strange; she had to know what was going on. Miranda approached the nearest door and peeked inside. The patient was gone. Perplexed, she ran to another. Then another.

"They're all gone," she whispered in awe. "All of Ward 7, its empty…"

Something _really_ wasn't right. Suddenly, Miranda had that feeling of being watched. Her skin felt chilled and the fine hairs on her body bristled. Eyes were on her back; she could feel a presence behind her. She shivered involuntarily, the action noticeably visible. Don't look back, she told herself. Don't… Miranda couldn't bring herself to forbid the action.

She had to know once and for all- what was watching her? The question of 'it' wasn't apparent, she knew something was there. How could a feeling this powerful be wrong? Just look, she told herself, just look. But now she hesitated and cursed herself for it. You'll have to deal with it one way or another, she thought angrily, just- Miranda whipped around before she could stop herself. Her eyes went wide and gasped at actually seeing someone.

"Doctor!"

He was standing at the end of the hall where Ward 8 merged into Ward 7. The pale light streamed in from the window behind him, stretching his shadow so that it ended just at her feet.

"Don't sound so surprised," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "I told you I'd come back."

"You did," she nodded. "_You_ opened my door then?"

The Doctor raised his brows before responding. "Yeah. Sorry. Didn't know you were awake. Thought I heard someone coming so I backtracked to make sure they weren't nearing your Ward."

Miranda nodded again, putting a hand to her chest to ease her still frantic heart.

"Now, hold on," the Doctor said, finally looking around, "What happened here?"

"Kenworth," she answered, "I saw him taking the patients out… They were wearing this weird collar; it looked like they were in a _trance_ or something."

The Doctor mulled it over for a moment. "What would he want with the patients…? He went this way, I presume?" he asked, pointing down the hall towards Ward 6.

Miranda nodded, "Well, he didn't pass by me so…"

"Great! Good thing about this music," he motioned above his head as he began walking, "is that it buffers footsteps. He won't hear us coming."

Miranda stopped walking. "Wait, why are we heading there?" she whispered, giving him an incredulous look.

The Doctor gave her an equally incredulous look. "I thought it was obvious. He seemed suspicious so we were going to see what he was up to… _And_," he added after seeing Miranda's expression hadn't changed at his explanation, "It's the quickest way to the TARDIS."

"But you came from the other direction."

He bobbed his head in a sort of noncommittal nod. "Yeah, well. I might've doubled around the building a bit…"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Running towards danger really wasn't her idea of an escape plan.

"Don't worry," the Doctor said, suddenly closer than before, "I promised I'd get you out of here and I will. You're safe with me."

The look in his eyes was beyond convincing. It wasn't arrogant or cocky but conveyed the same sort of confidence one would have as if he already knew the outcome. Hell, being a time traveler, maybe he did. Miranda dropped her gaze. "Okay." She missed the grin he gave her before trotting off.

The long and empty hall of Ward 7 was eerie as they passed. They continued down the corridor in silence, both focused but on different things. Miranda strained to hear over the chorus of 'ding dongs', trying to listen for approaching footsteps. The Doctor, on the other hand, was busy staring at the passing canvases.

"It looks so familiar," he murmured to himself.

Miranda gave him an annoyed look. "They're just blobs," she hissed under the music, "It doesn't mean anything."

The Doctor didn't look at her. "You're an artist- your work means something. See? There's a distinct pattern," he said pointing at two of the paintings. "Three little prongs at the bottom- two the same and third a little shorter, always the farthest right."

"So?"

"So?" he repeated, finally glancing at her. "That means it's intentional. The measures are exact- that doesn't happen when a copy is made."

"What are you saying?" Miranda asked, feeling a headache coming on.

"If they didn't copy each other then there must be a common object they were exposed to. Something they each paint every time. One single image constantly going through their minds… It must've had a real impact on them…"

Miranda's eyes were distant suddenly. "Yeah."

She jumped as the Doctor dashed over to a wall. "What's this?" he asked, leaning over to get a better look. Miranda came up beside him and made a face. On the wall was a smear of black- it looked like someone had wiped their hand on the wall.

"I wouldn't touch it," the Doctor said as he pulled out his sonic.

"Wasn't going to," she replied hotly.

He scanned the dark substance and frowned, looking at the results. "It's organic," he stated, "And from what I can tell, human."

"Human? Wait, hold on," Miranda said, remembering what had happened earlier in the mess hall. "Someone got sick today-"

"That's lovely," he said distractedly.

"No, you don't get it," she pressed, "His sick was _black_, just like this."

The Doctor looked at his reading again. "Sick…? This doesn't even show signs of digestion so it was never eaten. The only explanation would be…" he trailed off, lost in thought.

"…Would be _what_?"

"That it was already inside them, part of them."

Miranda narrowed her eyes in thought. "I'm not following," she finally admitted.

"The organic material on this wall is human, there's no mistaking it," he explained quickly, "You said it was produced by vomiting, yes? So someone vomited up human matter- very concerning, I know but even more so because this isn't a case of human snacks or even cannibalism. This never went through a digestive track which means! It was already part of the person who… well, threw up."

She stared at him when he finished his rambling, looking even more confused.

The Doctor sighed then tried again. "The person essentially vomited up bits of their insides."

"Like…organs?" She pulled a disgusted face.

"Organs, soft tissue, muscle- any of those would fit the scan."

Miranda frowned. "But if people are hacking up their insides, shouldn't they be dead?

He straightened up, still eying the spot on the wall. "No," he answered, "its only small bits, very small- on the molecular level. The human body can re-grow the cells quick enough but the extra strain isn't good. Worse it could do is make them sick… for now."

"What would cause this, though?" Miranda asked.

"Not sure," he admitted, "Needless to say, this isn't normal. Something must have disrupted the structure of his internal organs."

"His?"

The Doctor looked Miranda in the eye. "Nasty cough that Dr. Kenworth had."

"So he's… not an alien, right?"

"Not if this came from him," the Doctor said, nodding at the black smear.

Miranda sighed. "Do weird things _always_ happen wherever you go?"

"Course not," he grinned, "I just go wherever weird things happen."

A small smile crept to her lips and disappeared as quickly as it came. The Doctor tucked away his sonic and motioned for her to follow. Miranda rolled her eyes to herself. I am dogging after the arse-hole head of this Institute who may or may not have hypnotic powers with a time traveling alien, she thought dryly to herself, explain how am I not crazy, again?

* * *

><p>The Doctor and Miranda were fortunate to not run into any guards- well, none that were conscious anyway. It was also very lucky that Dr. Kenworth (presumably) left a nice trail of black vomit to follow. Once the pair reached the ground floor, they saw that Kenworth had led the patients outside; a smudge of black on an Exit door giving it away.<p>

Miranda opened the door and she stared into the white snow covered landscape. She frowned, shaking slightly in her thin blue uniform. Something warm and heavy was draped over her shoulders. Surprised, Miranda turned to find the Doctor without his tweed coat. He gave her a smile, just as warm and she looked away quickly.

"T-thank you," she muttered, putting the coat on properly.

He came up beside her in the doorway and wordlessly handed her a pair of red converse. Glancing down at his feet, she saw he was still wearing his black ankle boots.

"Might be a bit big on you," he commented, "But it's better than frostbite."

Miranda quickly pulled them on; they were large on her by a few sizes but didn't say anything. "Where were you keeping them?" she asked hesitantly.

He shrugged, "Where I normally keep my third boot." The Doctor winked at her confused face, "Never know when you'll need another boot."

She shook her head as he stepped outside and followed, the door shutting behind her. The snow storm raged on, whipped her hair and clothes about. She held the tweed jacket closed at the front in a small attempt to retain body heat. Snowflakes clung to her hair and melted on her skin. Even though she was near freezing, the thought of going back inside never crossed her mind.

"There are footprints leading this way," the Doctor said, over the sound of the wind.

Miranda nodded, too cold to speak and went over to look for herself. The wind and snow had made the tracks not as deep but they were still very noticeable. There was a long trail, most likely made by the patients walking in a single file line, and a distinct set of footprints off to the side- Kenworth.

When the Doctor's hand grabbed hers, she jumped. "Shall we?" he asked with a boyish look in his eye. She held her breath a moment then replied, "Lead the way." The tracks went on for some time, quite far off from Bybilis Institute and then-

"They stop?" said Miranda, confused.

The Doctor released her hand, which she was thankful for, and went to examine them. "Well that's odd," he said, staring at where they ended. He looked around; they were the only ones in the area.

"I don't understand," Miranda frowned. "How could they just disappear?"

"They couldn't."

"Well what do you call this? The tracks just… _end_."

The Doctor started sonicking the air. "There's no sort of cloaking device or perception filter around… They were just here and then… gone."

"Mysteriously disappearing is sounding good right about now, eh?"

"Not really," the Doctor frowned, "I hate mysteries, well, unsolved ones at least."

Miranda crossed her arms against the cold. She somewhat hoped the Doctor would just call it a day and leave. She also hoped the TARDIS had the heat on…

"Well if they didn't disappear then what?" she posed, "Did they sprout wings and fly off?"

He paused then looked at her, wide eyed. A grin covered his face and he exclaimed, "Yes! That's it!" The Doctor rushed to the last footprints and began clearing away snow. Miranda stared at him. Was he serious?

"Doctor? I was joking," she told him but he didn't seem to hear her.

"Ah HA!"

Beneath the snow was a piece of metal, a dark grey with a deep blue tinge. It seemed large as he had only uncovered a curved portion about the size of an adult. It was probably in a circular shape, she reasoned.

"What is it?"

"This," he began excitedly, "Is a type of generator- picks up and sends out signals of a specific frequency. This is how they flew off!"

"So… they _did_ fly off?"

"Well not _literally_," he explained, "They teleported! These rings come in pairs, stand on or in one and it'll take you to the other. You just have to know the right signal."

"Do _you_?"

He smirked. "Nope. But _I_ don't have to since I've got one of these," he said, holding up his sonic. "All I've got to do- here, stand right next to me-is use a sonic relay. It'll repeat the last signal to reach this teleportation ring, taking us wherever Kenworth went."

"Great," Miranda grumbled. "I assume you don't have a plan?"

The Doctor looked at her carefully. "Don't be silly. Of course I have a plan…" he said not too convincingly.

She stopped herself from sighing. "Just do it."

With a grin, he sonicked the ring beneath them. Miranda felt an odd sensation sweep over her like a strong force pressing on her body then suddenly it stopped. The landscape was gone in a blink of an eye and she found herself in a strange room, inside of an upright standing ring. Had the Doctor not been next to her still, Miranda might have panicked.

The room was small and empty aside from the two of them. The floors and walls were sleek and shiny, made out of what looked like elongated beige bricks. The lights overhead had a slight purplish tint, giving the room an eerie glow. They stepped out of the teleportation ring and looked around. Miranda approached what looked like a door and frowned. On the wall beside it, was a pad with an oddly shaped indent in the wall.

"Doctor… I think I found the inspiration for the paintings in Ward 7. They were hanging them upside down," she said quietly.

The Doctor rushed up next to her, his face very serious.

"Do you know what it is?" she asked.

"Yes… It's a handprint. A three fingered handprint… the short prong is the thumb and then two fingers. No wonder it looked so familiar. I've encountered them before…"

"Them…? This is an alien 'them', isn't it?"

The Doctor looked at her gravely. "It is," he said, "And they're far more ruthless and dangerous than the Videans."

She gulped then asked in a small voice, "Who…?"

"The Sontarans."


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Writer's block! It sucks. I wrote scenes for future chapters but couldn't bring myself to finish this one! I lose interest/ focus with these "episodes" too quickly- hopefully it doesn't translate! I feel like I'm off my game… Let me know what you think.

* * *

><p>Chapter Ten: Sub-wave of the Bells<p>

"Whatever you do, don't leave my side," the Doctor warned.

"These Sontarans are that bad, huh?"

He nodded. "Oh yeah. And they don't like _me_ very much. I wouldn't put it past them to use you as leverage."

"I'll be careful," Miranda pledged.

The Doctor placed his hand on the door pad, a space between his middle and ring fingers so that it looked like the three fingered handprint. The door swooshed open, revealing a new room of blues and purples. There were a few large machines to the left as well as a door, straight ahead were a number of screens and to the right of that was a narrow hall that led back with a door at the end. All of this was lost on Miranda as her eyes were immediately drawn to a row of people standing in the center of the room, all in pale blue uniforms just like her own.

"Well, now we know where Ward 7 is," she said softly.

None of the patients acknowledged their presence. On their heads was a netlike covering with small suction cups stuck to their temples and forehead. The Doctor glanced around the room then approached one of them. He leaned in close, inspecting the device from all sides then turned to a series of screens on the far wall.

"Please tell me those aren't mind swapping things," Miranda said, walking over to him.

His eyes were narrowed, watching the screens. "Those aren't mind swapping things."

She looked at the screens too. There were twelve bearing a thin red line erratically moving up and down, each with similar crests and troughs. "These monitors are showing each patient's brain activity," the Doctor informed.

He pointed at a larger monitor with many different moving waves. "You can see all of these red lines are just duplicates of the patients' brain waves but this one, this blue line doesn't match up."

Miranda frowned. "You're right. It's nothing like the others," she observed. "I mean their waves look… _random_ but that one looks like it has a pattern."

"And it repeats after every five parts," the Doctor added. He tilted his head to one side in thought. "The first part consists of six wave groups of four, giving it ninety-six waves total then it's interrupted by a series of quick double waves equaling twenty. The next bit is the same only it has one extra group of waves. Seven instead of six. One hundred and twelve waves. Then there's the twenty quicker waves followed by a group of thirty-two, consistent with the original wave pattern of four…"

Miranda stared at him, completely lost. "What?"

He looked at her, confused at her confusion then realized that she was human. Right. "I basically just mapped out the wave pattern," he told her carefully, hoping she'd understand that much.

"O-_kay_. Well, what do you think it is?"

The Doctor hesitated, giving the screens another look before turning away. "Not sure what it is," he admitted, "But! I know what it's _not_."

Miranda raised a brow at him.

"It's not a brain wave," he said, "Even if someone was thinking the same thing over and over, it wouldn't be that consistent."

She held in a sigh. "I guess that helps. But if it isn't a brain wave, what's it doing on the screen with the others?"

"No clue."

This time she did sigh.

"But," he added, seeing her expression dull, "If my suspicions are correct, it's an auditory wave. The breaks in the pattern- the twenty quick waves- it's a chorus."

Miranda's eyed widened in recognition. "It's a song!"

"Care to take a listen?"

She nodded and the Doctor grinned, pulling out his sonic and pointing it at the largest screen. It let out a series of high blips as it analyzed the blue wave. The Doctor retracted the claw and it proceeded to play the wave back audibly. The green diode blinked as it emitted the fast choppy tune. The two of them froze, identifying the song almost immediately and looked at each other.

"It's Carol of the Bells," Miranda whispered, her brows knitted together.

He cut off the sonic screwdriver's replay. Several gears in his brain clicked into place at once. "That's it," the Doctor said, locking eyes with hers, "The song's been interlaced with Ward 7's brain activity- _irregular_ brain activity. And it's being broadcast all over the Institute. Carol of the Bells- it's a carrier! It's transmitting the brain activity as a sub-wave!"

Miranda shook her head, her mind racing. "But what does that do? What's the point?"

The Doctor looked at her seriously, the excitement of figuring out the wave quickly waning as the realization of its implications set in. "It's like when you get a song stuck in your head. It's still buzzing around your brain even when you don't realize it- only this time it's much more than a song. It's a subliminal message. 'Think like Ward 7. Behave like Ward7'."

"Like… brainwashing?"

"Even worse," the Doctor said grimly. "This repeated exposure, it's slowly reworking how the human brain thinks, making it abnormal, irregular."

"Insane…"

He looked Miranda in the eyes. "It's making mental illness a weapon against humanity."

The building tension in the room was extinguished as the swoosh of a door opening down the hall startled Miranda. Quickly, the Doctor pulled her behind a large machine off to the side and they crouched to the ground. It was just big enough to hide them both so long as they huddled closely and didn't move. Miranda was too afraid to notice their shoulders touching.

A set of footsteps was heard entering the room. They were sharp and distinct, most likely belonging to a pair of hard soled shoes. "Kenworth", she mouthed to the Doctor. He nodded, looking at her then his eyes went out of focus as he tried to listen.

Kenworth's footsteps stopped in the middle of the room then a few moments later, he took another step closer to them. Then another. Miranda gulped, her heart thundering away of its own will. She looked at the Doctor but he wore a mask of concentration, not showing the least bit of fear. Somehow, it didn't make her feel better.

Suddenly Kenworth began coughing and a rattling was heard. He dropped something which clattered to the floor and then many somethings scattered like tiny marbles. Just as Miranda tried to discern what they were, a small round tablet rolled into her line of vision. It was a tiny black pill which spiraled twice in a circle then settled at her foot.

Kenworth's coughing fit ceased with a curse and a stomp of his foot. "Bloody lungs acting up at the worst…" Kenworth muttered. "Have to get more… unlucky slave to this… rubbish planet..."

His mutterings faded as he walked back down the hall, coughing again slightly. The door swooshed open then closed. The Doctor was the first to recover, as he grabbed the tiny black pill.

"What's that for?" Miranda asked him.

"Five ways to find out," he responded. "But this is the fastest way." The Doctor gave the tablet a quick lick then after a moment of contemplation, made a comically unhappy face.

"Ah, ah, ah! That's not good," he gagged, using the cuff of his sleeve to clean off his tongue. "Really not good!"

"What is it?" she asked urgently, hoping he hadn't been poisoned.

"Worse than beans and yogurt and bacon combined!"

She glared. "Do you know what it is _or_ _not_?" she snapped.

The Doctor composed himself as best as he could before answering. "Yes," he said, shooting the pill one last nasty look before purposely letting it drop to the floor with a click. "It's an atom stabilizer. Used for repeated teleportation. Only it's not made for human biochemistry- its Sontaran. That's the reason why those patients have been coughing up their own bodies, Kenworth too. Not all of their atoms are reassembling in the right places."

Miranda frowned. "Wouldn't the Sontarans know better than to give humans the wrong sort of… what it is? Are they really that thick?"

"No… well, thick in the _neck_, maybe. But that's just it," he said slowly. "A Sontaran wouldn't make such a novice mistake. They wouldn't kill off their own test group- _when they were still useful_. No, something's not right about this… We haven't even seen or heard a Sontaran yet."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"It would be if it wasn't so strange," he said. "Sontarans are normally hands on with their experiments. They only use humans as pawns, not head scientists…"

Miranda watched the gears in his head turning. He looked at her suddenly. "Let's keep moving."

They walked to the door closest to them and furthest from where Kenworth went. The room was relatively bare compared to the other. It was much smaller and sported an in-ground tub full of bubbling green muck as well as a lawn chair looking thing. Miranda's eyes widened as they landed on the person occupying the chair.

"Kenworth?" she gasped. "But how? We just saw him!"

The Doctor sauntered over to him, glancing over how he was hardwired into the chair. "Miranda Cole, meet Dr. Kenworth," he said calmly.

She shook her head slowly, moving closer. "I don't understand," she said.

The Doctor looked from the seemingly sleeping Kenworth to her. "The Kenworth we've met was a clone. A Sontaran specialty," he added. "If it wasn't for all of the aftershave he wore, I'd have been able to tell the difference straight away."

Miranda gave him a questioning look.

"Clones smell," he said simply.

"Oh… So this is the _real_ Kenworth, then?"

"Yes, he is," someone called behind them.

Miranda spun around quickly but the Doctor remained collected. "Mr. Clone," he said calmly, "Or should I call you Dr. Clone? I was never good with titles."

The clone's eyes flickered between the pair then to the reclined Kenworth. It was then that Miranda saw the odd sort of gun in his hand. He motioned with it for them to step aside, the purple lighting glinting menacingly on the gun's silver barrel. They complied, moving away from the real Kenworth.

"I want to know who you are and how you found this ship," the clone demanded.

"I'm the Doctor and you've already met Miranda," the Doctor replied nonchalantly. "And it should be obvious that we followed your beam coordinates back to their origination. We weren't supposed to be able to do that. Little glitch in the teleportation system. You should see to having that fixed. Actually, I know a fellow-"

"Enough!" Kenworth's clone barked then began coughing violently into his hand. He raised the silver blaster higher as if to stop any plans of overtaking him. The Doctor put his hands up defensively and Miranda followed suit.

"You've been taking the wrong stabilizers," the Doctor commented as the clone caught his breath. "Shouldn't you know that? Moreover shouldn't _they_ know that?"

The clone wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a black smear. "Move," the clone growled, ignoring the Doctor's questions. "The both of you, start walking."

With a quick glance between them, the Doctor and Miranda did as ordered. The clone led them back through the main room; the patients were still looking ahead blankly, and down the hall towards a new part of the ship. The Doctor glanced over his shoulder at the Kenworth double. "So," he drawled, "What exactly do you have to gain from all this?"

The clone scowled. "I was created to serve the Sontaran Empire," he responded after a moment. "There is no greater reward than to be useful to my masters."

The Doctor snorted. "You say that _now_. Wait till you're decommissioned…"

Kenworth gave a wry smirk. "That is unlikely to happen any time _soon_, Doctor."

"Why do you say that?" the Doctor asked, stopping in front of a door.

Kenworth opened it, his blaster still pointed at them. "You will find out soon enough," he said forebodingly. The clone ushered the two of them into the room and let the door slide closed.

"I don't like the way he said that," Miranda frowned, staring at the closed door. She noticed there wasn't a hand pad on this side. "Are we trapped in here?"

"For the time being," the Doctor said, running a finger over the door frame.

Miranda crossed her arms and looked around the room. It was quite dark, compared to the other parts of the ship which actually were pretty dimly lit to begin with. She couldn't see the back wall as it was bathed in shadow. Miranda was suddenly very anxious and felt claustrophobic despite the room's generous size.

"Doctor, I don't like it here," she whispered, picking at the sleeves of the Doctor's jacket she wore. If her nails weren't so bitten down, they would have scraped clean through the tweed fabric.

The Doctor seemed somewhat oblivious to her rising panic as he scanned the room slowly, trying to see something that he first missed. "We're in a room you can walk into but not out of," he muttered to himself. "A holding cell."

Miranda bit her lip, staring into the darkness. "Really, I think we should find a way out of here," she said," Like right _now_."

"Sontarans don't take prisoners though," the Doctor thought aloud, "They take death tolls. Sontarans wouldn't need holding cells."

"Or a light switch would be nice, yeah?"

"What is a holding cell doing on a Sontaran ship?"

"Doctor?"

"What would they need it for?"

"Doctor?"

"Not now, Miranda," he dismissed, "Something isn't adding up. I'm missing something _big_!"

"Yeah, you are," she said shakily, "Something big and ugly and very cross looking in a purple space suit."

The Doctor looked at her surprised. "Why, that description sounds remarkably similar to a Sontaran! But we haven't seen a single one on the ship so far. Either you're more knowledgeable of alien races than you let on or...or you're looking at one right now… It's the latter, isn't it?"

Miranda gulped, eyes fixed in front of her and nodded. "Uh huh…"

The Doctor spun around to face the back of the room. Surely enough there was a lone Sontaran standing not but a few feet from them, teeth bared and scowling. The Sontaran let out a low throaty growl that reminded Miranda of a rabid dog.

"And my! He sure does seem cross, doesn't he?" the Doctor exclaimed nervously. "Hello! Er, we just dropped by for tea, if you'll believe it and it was _lovely_. Shame you weren't invited. Maybe next time!"

"Spies, you are!" the Sontaran roared, "Spies for the rotted Rutan Host! Hoping to win the war with trickery and cheap plots!"

The Doctor gaped for a moment. "Uh, _no_. Definitely not! Look at us!" He raised his and Miranda's hand. "All solid and boney! Not a bit of green goo- nothing like the Rutans!"

"In the name of the Sontaran Empire! I, Skoar, will win the war single handedly!"

"I'm _sure_ you will, Skoar," the Doctor grinned, backing away slowly. "But we've overstayed our welcome. We should… just _go_."

"Go?" Skoar repeated, narrowing his eyes. "I think not! The Sontaran Empire will crush the Rutan Host but first _I_ will destroy _you_!"


	11. Chapter 11

AN: This chapter was created so quickly! Very happy. It seems my conclusions are always longer, kind of annoying but oh well. Anywho, enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think! And thanks to everyone who reviewed! It means a lot!

On another note, I watched the movie _Womb_, starring our dear Matt Smith. Very interesting and really good and (in case you're interested) you get a lovely view of a certain someone's bum… Haha, aside from that it's a very curious and slightly disturbing movie about cloning and a possible Oedipal complex (sort of). Really makes you think. There's also a vague DW reference in it. Might want to check it out.

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven: The Sontaran Legacy<p>

The Sontaran, Skoar, lunged at the pair who dove in opposite directions to avoid being pummeled. Skoar growled and glared at the Doctor.

"Coward!" he barked. "Rutan scum, face your death!"

"_Again_, not a Rutan!" the Doctor shouted. "Really, you should try listening for a change."

"The task was given to me," Skoar muttered, "I must complete… I must finish the experiment!"

"The experiment!" the Doctor interjected, "Talk about that. What is the _point_? Why rewire the human brain?"

Skoar glowered. "Humans? There are no humans! Only Rutan filth!"

"Doctor, what is he talking about?" Miranda asked in a panicked voice. "And _what the hell_ is a Rutan?"

The Doctor edged away from the Sontaran as he tried rounding on him again. "The Rutans are an alien race- goopy brain things, really. Been at war with the Sontarans for ages! No idea why he thinks we're them- there's no likeness at all!"

"Brilliant," she frowned, watching Skoar try to corner the Doctor. Even though she was scared for him, at the same time, she was glad he wasn't coming for _her_ first.

"I must finish the experiment," Skoar said to himself. "The Sontaran Empire needs me."

"Oh, hold on," the Doctor whispered. "It's a science vessel. Sontarans don't need holding cells but this is something more!"

"Doctor?"

"It's a quarantine zone!"

Skoar roared and charged at the Doctor who yelped and just missed being flattened against the wall. This wasn't going to last long but his mind was elsewhere. "Skoar's in quarantine! He must have been infected by the sub-wave!"

"I thought it was for humans, though," Miranda frowned.

"It _was_ but this experiment wasn't for humans- they were just a test subject! It's for the Rutan Host! The whole thing is for the war with the Rutans! Intellect was their only weapon, take that away and the Rutans are as good as dead," the Doctor exclaimed, talking quickly. "The wave would have to be transferred from human to Rutan. An inter-species neural transfer! It must have gone wrong though. Skoar must have got caught in it somehow."

The Doctor jumped back from Skoar's grasp and ran to the wall opposite Miranda.

"Come back and fight me, Rutan!"

"Does that mean he's crazy?" she shouted over the Sontaran's battle cry.

"Oh, yes!" the Doctor grinned, "Or else he'd have killed me ages ago! His brain is malfunctioning- he can't access certain bits of information! Certain crucial bits of Sontaran knowledge! Combat training, science technology-"

"That's why Kenworth was taking the wrong stabilizers!"

"Exactly!" the Doctor grinned then frowned. "Trapped in a room with a crazy Sontaran- I could only think of a handful of worse situations. Miranda, we should _really_ be off!"

"Ya think!"

Skoar growled in frustration. "You'll be the first to die and then the Rutan wench!"

"Wench?" Miranda repeated angrily, "Why am I a wench?"

"Sontarans are all male clones!" the Doctor explained before dodging a blow. "They think anyone different from them is inferior so naturally, you're the most female in the room so…"

Miranda rolled her eyes.

The Doctor patted down his chest then realized Miranda was wearing his jacket. "Miranda! Left inner pocket!"

She pulled out his sonic screwdriver and looked at him helplessly. "What do I do with it?"

"Setting 124!"

She turned the screwdriver in her hands, looking for anything to indicate a setting. "Where the hell are the settings?"

"Psychic settings! Think of opening the door! Point and sonic!" the Doctor cried just before the Sontaran landed a punch to his face. The Doctor fell to the floor, seeing stars. He rubbed his jaw gingerly. "Ow!"

Miranda pointed the sonic at the door and pressed the small black button. It lit up green and whined but nothing happened. Open, she thought frantically, open, open!

"It's not working!"

"Point and sonic!" the Doctor yelled.

The Sontaran turned to Miranda who was desperately trying to sonic the door. "Rutan trickery," he growled, advancing on her.

"Oi!" the Doctor shouted, trying to get his attention. He got to his feet shakily. "You call that a _punch_? Jackie Tyler hits harder than you! And she does…"

It didn't seem to be working. "Hey, you great big potato head! Pick on someone from your own galaxy!" he shouted then added, "Which, by the way, is neither of us."

Miranda backed away from Skoar, eyes wide. He seemed like all muscle and very capable of snapping her in half like a twig. "A little help here!"

"The Rutans won the war!" the Doctor lied and Skoar stopped in his tracks. He went on, signaling to Miranda to keep trying the door. "Oh, yes. Sontar is destroyed and all Sontarans are… girly!"

"How _dare_ you!"

Skoar charged at the Doctor like an enraged bull. He managed to side step the furious Sontaran but as he was spinning out of the way, Skoar managed to grab a hold of one of his suspenders. The Doctor was tugged backwards and violently slammed into the wall.

"Doctor!"

"Never mind me! Just open the-Gah!"

He was cut off as Skoar took a hold of his throat. The Sontaran laughed. "Pathetic Rutan scum!" he snarled, "Prepare to meet the strength of a Sontaran warrior! Sontar-ha! Sontar-ha!"

Skoar's grip tightened around the Doctor's neck, making him gag and strain for breath. He tried pulling at the Sontaran's hand but was no match for his strength. Seeing the Doctor's plight, Miranda quickly gave up on the door and ran over to help him. She grabbed the Sontaran's arm, trying to loosen his grip on the Doctor.

"Let go of him!" she demanded, giving the Sontaran a death glare.

Skoar snorted and pushed her to the ground with his spare hand, continuing his victory chant. "Sontar-ha! Sontar-ha!"

Miranda looked up desperately. The Doctor was very blue in the face. If he wasn't strangled to death, the Sontaran would surely break his neck. What could she... Something came over Miranda suddenly and she stood, coming up behind the Sontaran. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes landing on the dark purple circle on the back of his suit. _Yes_, she thought to herself, with some new found confidence. This is it. She pulled back a fist and rammed it as hard as she could into the circular button.

"Sontar-GAH! Ah…"

Skoar dropped immediately with groan and the Doctor gasped for breath. His hands flew to his throat and he slowly slid down the wall. Miranda knelt beside him and looked at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

The Doctor rubbed his neck and nodded. "I've been better. Would have been worse if not for you. Thanks," he panted, looking at her oddly. His gaze held both curiosity and suspicion. "How'd you know about the probic vent?"

She blinked. "The _what_?"

"The button you hit. It's their main weakness. The pain of Sontar, it's been called. Knocks them out straight away," he explained. "It'd make more sense to aim for the head not the suit. What made you aim for that?"

Miranda shook her head in thought. "I don't know," she answered. "It just… seemed right." She let out a short laugh. "Pretty lucky, huh?"

The Doctor stared at her, thinking. "Lucky. Yeah…" he snapped out of his thoughts and sprang up, helping her to her feet. "Let's get out of here before Skoar wakes up."

He grabbed his sonic and opened the door easily, giving her an 'I-told-you-so' look. "Point and sonic, Miranda. It's pretty simple."

"I did!" she protested. "And I thought of opening the door!"

"Opening the door, _how_?"

"What do you mean?" she questioned, warily.

"Well, you didn't just think 'Presto, door is open', did you?"

"Not those words exactly…"

The Doctor rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh come on, Miranda. It's not a magic wand! It can't just make things happen for no reason at all!"

"Well _you_ just did."

"_No_. I didn't just make the door _open sesame_. I made the control pad on the other side of the wall interpret the sonic waves as a hand recognition so the door would open," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She glared at him as they walked down the corridor. "Oh, silly me," she said dryly, "And here I thought it was something complicated."

They slowed as they approached the main room. "What do we do about Kenworth? The clone, I mean."

"As soon as we unhook the real Kenworth, the clone will start to die," he replied. "Sad thing about clones. Not a long life expectancy. They're dependent on the original. They've got all their memories and knowledge. That's what makes them so passable. But cut off that feed and they're goners. They only last a few minutes."

"So, we kill him?"

"I'd really rather not but I don't see any other way, " he said and Miranda slowly nodded.

The Doctor peeked around the corner to find the clone absent. He grinned and entered, trotting over to the brain monitors. Miranda looked from him to the comatose patients.

"What are you doing?" she whispered as he sonicked the screens.

"Trying to interrupt the sub-wave," he said. "If it continues for much longer, the effects will be permanent. And contagious."

"It'll spread throughout the world," she said hollowly, "The whole world will go mad…"

"Not if I can help it!"

He ran to the patients and started removing the netlike covering on their heads. Miranda went to the other end of the line of patients and did the same. Once they were all off, the Doctor went back to the screens. The twelve monitors were now blank but the larger one still had all of the waves.

"It's still there! The sub-wave is still going!" He ran a hand through his fringe. "We need to stop the broadcast altogether. It's the only way to stop the sub-wave!"

"How do we do that?" Miranda asked, her brows knitting together.

The Doctor scanned the equipment. "Think of it as a radio station and this, this ship is a radio tower. How do you stop radios from picking up the station? Either driving out of range or shutting down the tower."

"You mean blowing up the ship?"

"That or powering off the ship's energy," he said quickly. "Sontaran ships will go right into power saver mode in an energy crisis. Only air systems and cloning equipment will work."

Miranda grinned. "Great. And how exactly do we do _that_?"

"You _don't_."

The Doctor looked up to see Kenworth's clone standing in the doorway, a scowl on his face. "The second phase of our experiment is nearly complete," he stated. "I won't have you two getting in the way!"

The patients of Ward 7 all turned their heads to look at the Doctor and Miranda. "Doctor… why are they staring at us?"

"I see you didn't bother to remove their neck devices," the clone said smugly. "A Sontaran favorite of mine. It makes the wearer hypnotized and allows them to be controlled." He paused for a moment to smirk. "Seize them!"

The patients rushed forward, overpowering the pair almost easily. Two restrained Miranda and four held the Doctor still despite their struggling. The clone walked closer to them. "You might have been an accident aboard this ship but I think I'll let you watch phase three before I kill you."

"Phase three?" asked the Doctor.

"Ah, yes. The sub-wave will be amplified and broadcast not just in Bybilis. Every radio, every television, every mp3 player- everything that can produce sound will carry my sub-wave! Don't worry; we're nice and safe in earth's orbit. We won't have any more accidents like last time," he grinned. "Tonight I make history! Tonight the human race goes mad!"

"No, you can't!" Miranda cried, trying to break free.

"Oh, yes I can, little girl," the clone laughed. "This whole planet will fall to the Sontaran Empire and then the Rutan Host will fall next!"

"Listen to me," the Doctor implored, "You don't have to do this! This whole experiment was Skoar's and it drove him mad! Look what it's doing to you!"

"I was created to serve the Sontaran Empire and carry out Commander Skoar's work! I don't expect the likes of _you_ to understand," he sneered. "What I'm doing is _great, _Doctor. Something never done before. My work will revolutionize war and ensure the victory of Sontarans for eons to come!"

"But you're not a Sontaran!" Miranda shouted. "You bloody idiot! You're helping them conquer your own race!"

"I _am_ my own race!" he yelled back, shaking with rage. "A _clone_ like the Sontarans yet able to accomplish feats beyond them. They _need_ me. I am the next stage of their Empire."

The clone went to the panel under the screens and began increasing the sub-wave's range. Hundreds of miles below them on the planet's surface, people began realizing something was terribly wrong.

* * *

><p>In England, a teenage boy was jumping on his bed, pretending to play guitar while listening to music. Very suddenly, the rock music stopped and was replaced with a familiar Christmas tune. He stopped and looked at his stereo oddly. "The hell?"<p>

* * *

><p>In Japan, a pair of young girls were watching a television show, giggling as their favorite character came into view. Then the audio cut out and was replaced by Carol of the Bells. They blinked and looked at each other.<p>

"Nani ka?" one asked, confused. "Dou shita no?"

The other went to the side of the TV and smacked it, trying to make it work, and shrugged when nothing changed.

* * *

><p>In Canada, an elderly man was listening to the radio, tuning into a baseball game.<p>

"_And what a swing! Look at that thing fly! Ladies and gents, in all my years, I've never- seen-a- Christmas is here, bringing good cheer, to young and old, meek and the bold. Ding, dong. Ding, dong. That is their song with joyful ring, all caroling…"_

"Hm? What's the meaning of this?" He sat up and grabbed the radio, turning the dial back and forth but the same tune was on every station. "Blasted Christmas corporations!"

* * *

><p>In Australia, a young woman jogged along a dusty road in her normal exercise routine. Her eyes were closed in concentration as she kept up her steady pace, listening to music playing through her ear buds. Rather suddenly, she stopped with a confused look on her face. She unclipped her iPod from her waist and looked at the song playing.<p>

"Carol of the Bells?" she read aloud, "How'd that get in my playlist?"

Then abruptly, she fell to her knees, grabbing her head as a wave of dizziness swept over her.

At the same time, the old man leaned forward in his recliner, clutching his head. Across the globe, the two girls both screamed and fell to the floor, forgetting their TV idol. The teen, hundreds of miles beneath the Sontaran ship, pulled at his hair and gritted his teeth, stumbling from his bed. He fumbled with his stereo, trying to shut it off and stop the music but the buttons and dials had no effect. Thinking through his lightheadedness, he unplugged the stereo and it turned off. His victory was short lived as his headache didn't lessen. He fell to his knees and glimpsed out his window. He could see the neighbors across the street on the ground in front of their television, both holding their heads, as he too collapsed. The signal was everywhere and everyone was dropping like flies.

* * *

><p>"Doctor, we have to do something!" Miranda cried, looking at the Time Lord with pleading eyes.<p>

He struggled more but the patients held firm. He let out an anguished cry and glared at the clone. "Kenworth, listen to me! It's not too late. You can shut off the signal," he stated. "Think of what you're doing! All the innocent people down there! They're more important than some silly war and glory!"

"There is _nothing_ more important," the clone said bitterly.

So many people, Miranda thought with an ache in her chest. The world would be a giant Bybilis, full of miserable raving lunatics. Miranda stared at Kenworth's clone, her spirit falling until a thought struck her. "There was a picture on your desk," she said softly.

The clone turned to frown at her. "What?"

She looked at him carefully. "When you admitted me, I saw a picture on your desk," she repeated. "A picture of a woman and a boy… Who are they?"

His frown deepened. "Kenworth's wife and son," he said stiffly.

The Doctor looked at Miranda with a small smile, seeing where she was going.

"But they're _your_ wife and son too," she affirmed.

"They're _not_. I'm not her husband _or_ his father!"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Maybe not technically but you're as good as. You have all of Kenworth's memories, all of his feelings. You can't tell me you don't feel anything for them!"

The clone squared his jaw and said nothing.

"Tell me their names," Miranda requested.

His hard demeanor wavered and he looked away. "Emma… and Rodger."

Miranda smiled and the Doctor beamed. "Emma and Rodger Kenworth," he said softly. "Great names. Tell us about them."

The clone hesitated.

"What are they like?" Miranda pushed.

"Emma loves gardening… It's how he met her, at a flower show… They were just children and his mother forced him along. They met at the tulip showing and he knew she was special…" His eyes glazed over at the memory. "He went to every flower show since just to see her… but she's been worried lately. All of the late nights at the hospital, she thinks… I've tried reassuring her…"

The Doctor and Miranda shared a look. "What about Rodger?" she asked. "How old is he?"

"He turned eight just two months ago," the clone said with a smile, the warmth reaching his grey eyes. "He's just brilliant though, great at math and loves reading. He read up every book and magazine in the house, even my medical texts!"

"Aren't they more important than the Sontarans?" Miranda asked boldly.

The smile slipped from Kenworth's face. The Doctor looked at him sadly. "They're both down there right now, losing their minds. And only you can stop the signal," he said solemnly. "Only you can save them."

The cloned stared straight through them, as the realization hit him hard. "R-release them," he ordered.

The patients let go and the Doctor rushed to the screens, sonicking them. "No, no! The signal's too powerful! The waves are too long!"

"What does that mean?" Miranda asked in a panicked voice, coming up beside him.

"Even if we shut off the signal, the sub-wave would still be present!" the Doctor exclaimed. "It's been bouncing around this ship too long, it's like an echo. It'd still be strong enough to transmit to earth!"

"Not if we leave orbit," the clone said, snapping from his stupor. "Take the others and I'll set an autopilot course for Sontar. I think the Sontarans need to see the progress of mental warfare and Skoar is the perfect candidate to show them!"

The Doctor stared at him for a moment then grinned. "Miranda please take Ward 7 to the transport room," he said and she nodded.

"Oh, and leave your control devices here," the clone called to the patients.

They did as they were told and looked around confused. "Come on," Miranda coaxed as she lead them away, "This way. Follow me."

"And what about you?" the Doctor asked. "As soon as we wake Kenworth, you'll-"

"I know what will happen," he growled then started coughing into his hand. "It will happen one way or another… At least this way they can go on and have many more birthdays and good memories…"

The Doctor placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You know, its people like you that show the very best of humanity."

He shook his head. "I'm only a clone, Doctor."

"Actually, I think you are so very human," the Doctor beamed.

Kenworth's clone smiled for a moment and shook his hand away. "Alright, alright," he frowned. "Get everyone out of here! I've got to get to the control room."

The Doctor nodded and dashed off as the clone did in a different direction. He ran into the other room and unhooked the real Kenworth from the equipment.

"Oh. What happened?" he groaned as the Doctor helped him to his feet.

"No time to explain! We have to go!"

"Go where?" Kenworth asked as the Doctor pulled him along. "Where are we?"

They joined Miranda and Ward 7 in the transport room. "About time," she breathed as they stepped onto the platform. The Doctor grinned at her, "Ready?"

"Just do it."

He sonicked the transportation ring and Miranda felt a pressure build on all sides of her body and then a chilling cold. She blinked. They were outside again on the grounds of Bybilis. It stopped snowing, she thought. Suddenly, she felt herself sway and a wave of dizziness overtook her.

"Ah!" She grabbed her head and was vaguely aware of the others doing the same. The Doctor steadied her with his firm grasp.

"It's alright," he said, his voice in her ear. "He wasn't left orbit yet. The sub-wave is still going. Any moment now…"

Miranda groaned and let the Doctor support her. "Any moment now," he repeated, glancing up at the sky. "Come on, Kenworth…"

There was a flash of red in the sky then it streaked across the stars like a comet. Miranda's mind cleared and she opened her eyes to see the others releasing their heads; them and billions of others around the world. Miranda righted herself and the Doctor let her go.

"Woohoo!" he howled, jumping on the spot and clasping his hands. "Just brilliant! Planet earth, safe again! Saved by a human, no less! And two at that!"

He winked at Miranda who shrugged. "Two humans and a little bit of help from a Time Lord." The Doctor beamed at her.

"Just who are you two?" Kenworth asked, staring at the pair with wide eyes.

"Well, I'm improbable," the Doctor said, "And she's impossible. That's a vague enough answer, I think."

"What?"

"Look," Miranda sighed, "Just take them inside and go home. It's late and Emma and Rodger are worried about you."

"Em… How did…? Wait, where are you going?" he called after them but they didn't hear or ignored him.

The crunch of snow under Miranda's oversized converse made her smile. She was smiling more than she had in years but being freed of a prison could do that. Walking away from the institute, she felt so much lighter.

"Oh!" the Doctor exclaimed, checking his watch.

"What is it?" Miranda asked quickly.

"It's past midnight. Don't you know what that means?"

She stared.

"It's December 25th," he stated.

"Oh!" she said with a half smile.

"Merry Christmas, Miranda Cole!" the Doctor grinned, giving her a sideways hug.

She shook her head at his cheerfulness as he ran ahead and tossed a handful of snow in the air. "Happy Christmas, Doctor."

They came to the blue box sitting in a pile of snow and the Doctor opened the door with a key. "Here we are!" He let Miranda walk in first and followed after. "Home, sweet home! But really, how many homes travel in time and space? TARDIS, sweet TARDIS! Now_ that's_ a saying!" the Doctor grinned, running up to the console. "I should get that on a plaque."

Miranda slowly walked up the steps to the glass platform, looking around in awe. The TARDIS seemed so much more magical than the last time she saw it. Of course, not fearing for her life could change her perception of the place. The Doctor looked at her expression and his lips tugged upwards. "So how about that ride?" he asked, bringing her from her trance.

She looked at him and nodded slowly. "I _think_ I'll take you up on that offer."

The Doctor grinned. Now _that_ was more like it! "Ha haa, alright! Any planet, any time! You name it and we're there."

There was a spark in her eye. "This planet, right now," she answered with a smirk. "I know just the place."

He pulled a lever on his left, still looking at her with a lopsided smile. "Allons-y!" he cried, dashing over to another part of the console, flipping a series of switches. "I forgot how fun that was! I should say it more often!"

"You really shouldn't."

"Allons-y, Miranda Cole! Allons-y!"

"Please stop," she groaned and the Doctor merely laughed.

"How about Geronimo? Do you like that better?"

"I'd like it better if you didn't shout nonsensical words, actually."

"Oh, you're no fun," he teased.

The light on the top of the TARDIS began flashing slowly, accompanied by the familiar grinding whirling noise as it started to fade from sight. The madwoman left Bybilis that night with an equally mad man. His blue box with them inside soon disappeared entirely from the grounds of Bybilis Institute, leaving only a square shaped imprint in the snow.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Goodbye and the Cat's Eye

Mr. and Mrs. Cole sat together in their warm country home in Dorset on a snowy Christmas morning, both engrossed in their own separate activities. Mr. Thomas Cole sat in an armchair, gazing coolly at a laptop screen as he checked his company's stock. He was dressed smartly in a grey suit, the coat draped over the back of his chair and his blond hair was neatly combed back. Mrs. Eileen Cole was reclined on their beige leather couch and reading the December edition of _Etiquette and Entrées Magazine._ Her brown hair was done up nicely in a French twist and was complimented by the sleek red dress she wore. She fancied herself up more out of habit than need since they weren't expecting company, as they hadn't been for many years now.

Mr. Cole and his wife had not been on friendly terms with his family for over five years. He, being the eldest of three children, was supposed to uphold the family's good reputation and for most of Mr. Cole's life, he had. He was an exemplary student and married into another wealthy family at the age of 26, his political career was very promising and he was quickly moving up in the ranks. Then he had a daughter, Miranda Cole.

She was unexpected yet not unwelcomed. Having a child was a 'good image'; it portrayed him as a family man, someone people could relate to. Even after the accident, it still boosted his political image. His nine year old daughter was in a coma after a tragic fall; the whole country mourned his loss with him and just as soon as he and Eileen released the news that they'd euthanize her, she woke up. Another unexpected event but they were honestly very happy to see her open her eyes. No matter how stoic and primped they were, Mr. and Mrs. Cole loved their daughter dearly. But their joy at her recovery was short lived.

It was soon clear that Miranda Cole had woken up a different person. Her parents noticed that she was more nervous and lost her healthy appetite. Her grades began slipping and she even began to miss school more frequently. She no longer enjoyed extracurricular activities aside from solitary ones like astronomy- it was a household joke that she was going to be an astronaut. She graduated with good enough marks so her parents weren't as concerned. "She'll come around," her mother used to say but Miranda never did. In fact, her behavior and appearance only got worse.

Everything came to a head one late night on the eve of Miranda's sixteenth birthday when Mr. and Mrs. Cole were awoken by screaming. Miranda was having a nightmare, they saw, and couldn't be shaken from it no matter what their attempts. When she finally did wake, she complained of an intense stomach pain. With some convincing, they took her to the hospital where the doctors informed them that her appendix had burst and needed to be removed immediately and also that she had a number of bruises on her body.

Horrified wouldn't even begin to express how Mr. and Mrs. Cole felt at the revelation or when the head doctor started inquiring about her home life. There were clear finger marks around her wrists, large enough to belong to a man so it wasn't long before Mr. Cole was questioned about his relationship with his daughter. He was, to say the least, outraged at the insinuation and had threatened to have the chief medical officer fired. In the end, the accusations against Mr. Cole were dropped and they never reached the press, thanks to the large sum of money he paid to keep them quiet.

The bruises still remained and grew in number over the next months but despite the encouragement of her parents, Miranda never revealed their origin. They were furious with her for concealing it from them, Mr. Cole especially, and ended up grounding her and taking away her telescopes. "She'll come around," her mother would say but Miranda never did. So Mr. and Mrs. Cole sent her to a number of psychiatrists.

No progress was made, in fact, Miranda Cole's health only declined further. "Send her to a nuthouse!" was the plea from Mr. Cole's father. "I can't keep this from leaking to the media. Think of your future, Tom. I want to say that my son is the Prime Minister! Don't let me down!" Mr. Cole had refused his father's wishes, withdrawing Miranda from professional help altogether but the damage had already been done. Footage of Miranda's dream therapy sessions hit the news within the next week and were the front page story on newspapers countrywide with headlines reading_: __Cole Unfit to Raise Daughter- How Can He Run A Country?_

Mr. Cole tried his hardest to recover his good image but it had no effect. Instead of losing by a landslide, he withdrew from the campaign, allowing for an easy win by Harriet Jones in the March of 2006. Mr. and Mrs. Cole were devastated and humiliated which was only furthered by the official disowning of Mr. Cole by his father. His two younger siblings, Kenneth and Lucille, were sympathetic yet not enough to try and sway their father's judgment. Stuck in the middle of the feud was Miranda who from then on was seen as a very unfortunate circumstance.

Two more years of home schooling and private counseling, Miranda Cole appeared to be the same disturbed teenager. After she turned eighteen, she ran away without a word to her parents and spent her troubled nights in a Brentford apartment. Mr. and Mrs. Cole didn't hear from their daughter for over three years when suddenly, she called them asking to talk. Her story only convinced them that she had gotten worse, delusional and potentially dangerous to herself. Mr. Cole had given up on her but Mrs. Cole wouldn't allow herself to. She had Miranda admitted into Bybilis Institute and was convinced that she would improve over time. "She'll come around," she would say, more to herself than her husband but for once, she was very correct.

There was an abrupt knock on their front door in Dorset, startling the pair. Mr. Cole frowned at the door and opted to ignore it. "Probably those carolers again," he said, returning to his laptop.

Mrs. Cole nodded and continued reading an article on Italian napkin folding. The knock sounded again, this time more melodic as if the person were trying to imitate a song. Mrs. Cole looked at her husband who seemed to be ignoring the door quite well and set down her magazine.

"I think I'll see who it is," she said, standing. She really was hoping someone would appreciate her hair or distract her from how empty the house was. Mrs. Cole opened the door and her smile froze.

"Oh, hello!" came a cheerful greeting from a strange man. The man from all of Miranda's paintings.

He was young looking, maybe in his mid to late twenties but was dressed like an old professor in a tweed jacket and red bow tie. Standing behind him, was her daughter clad in her Bybilis uniform and a long brown trench. Mrs. Cole stared as the cold winter air washed over her.

Miranda looked at her sadly but forced a slight smile. "Hi, mum."

Mrs. Cole took a step back, too dumbfounded to utter a reply. "You must be Mrs. Cole," the man said with a grin, stepping into the house. "Happy Christmas," he said as he strode into the living room. "And you must be _Mr_. Cole."

Mr. Cole stood up quickly, eying the man with distaste. "Just who do you think you are?"

The man merely grinned, unfazed by Mr. Cole's glare. "I'm the Doctor," he said simply.

Mr. Cole furrowed his brow in confusion. "What doctor? Doctor _who_?"

"Actually, he's just called the Doctor," came Miranda's quiet voice.

Mrs. Cole stood beside her husband, both looking at the pair with something close to bewilderment. "What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Cole demanded. "Why is she _here_?"

"I just wanted to… sort everything out," Miranda answered. "Our last talk didn't go very well."

"That's putting it lightly," the Doctor muttered to her. She glanced at him quickly then back to her parents.

"This isn't legal," Mr. Cole growled. "She should be locked up. I'm calling Bybilis- and the police!"

"_Honey_," Mrs. Cole started, grabbing his arm.

"No, Eileen," he barked. "I'm _not_ standing for this!"

"Then _sit down_," the Doctor ordered.

Mr. Cole looked at the Doctor, aghast. "I won't be spoken to like that in _my own house_. Doctor _Whoever-you-are_, you're never going to see the outside of a jail cell when I'm through with you!" He stormed into the other room and Mrs. Cole ran after him.

The Doctor looked at Miranda who was biting her lip. "Maybe we should've waited until eggnog time."

She scowled at him as her parents started coming back.

"And _then_ my sister got herself _killed_ and now my daughter's _just_ as mad," Mr. Cole was saying to his wife. "I think I'm handling this _very_ well!" He narrowed his eyes at the Doctor. "The police are on their way," he said smugly, waiting for them to scurry out the door. Instead the Doctor smiled pleasantly.

"Oh, perfect," he chimed, "Then we've got plenty of time to chat."

He plopped down on their leather couch and looked at them expectantly. "Please?" Miranda asked and reluctantly, Mr. Cole seated himself back in his chair. Mrs. Cole sat on the arm of the chair. "Go on then, Miranda," she said.

Miranda sat beside the Doctor, the large trench she borrowed making her look smaller. "I wasn't entirely truthful when I explained what happened," she said finally. She looked up to see her parents staring back silently.

"The Doctor _did_ save me. He helped me get rid of the man that was hurting me."

"The one… in your head?" Mrs. Cole asked carefully.

Miranda blinked. "Yeah," she deadpanned. Her father muttered something under his breath. "That was all true but I didn't tell you everything. The way I said it before made it sound like the Doctor was some sort of _exorcist_-"

"You could hardly call him a _doctor_," snipped Mr. Cole.

"Well, he's not," Miranda supplied.

"Oi," the Doctor cut in indignantly. "Since when am I not a doctor? I'm _the_ Doctor, doesn't that count for anything?"

Miranda rolled her eyes at him. "Don't start," she warned.

"Just who is he?" Mrs. Cole asked.

"He's an alien," Miranda blurted out. "And a time traveler."

Mr. and Mrs. Cole stared at their daughter blankly then at the Doctor who gave a small wave.

"I've heard enough of this nonsense," said Mr. Cole.

"It's not nonsense," the Doctor said calmly. "Really, you should start listening to your daughter. She's completely brilliant."

"Why are you doing this?" Mrs. Cole cried, her eyes shining. "My little Miranda is _sick_."

Miranda shut her eyes tightly and the Doctor sat up straighter. Mrs. Cole continued angrily, "You're just hurting her even more by leading her on like this. I don't know what _lies_ you've been telling her but its going to _stop_. You're enabling her to live in her hallucinations!"

"Mum!"

"I just want my daughter to get better!"

"So you sent her to an insane asylum?" the Doctor questioned, his brows meeting.

"I sent her to a _hospital_," Mrs. Cole shouted. "It was for her own good!"

"No, it wasn't, mum!" Miranda barked, getting to her feet. "Does it _look_ like I've gotten any better? It was for _your_ own good. So you wouldn't have to deal with me- your _mental_ daughter."

"That's not true at all, Miranda," Mrs. Cole assured, standing. "I just don't want to lose you."

"Lose me? Is that it?" she asked. "You still feel guilty about nearly killing me?"

"What are you talking about, Miranda?" her mother asked.

"When I was in a coma, you both decided to pull the plug. I know," Miranda said shakily. "It's okay, though. Really."

"How do you know about that?" Mr. Cole questioned.

Miranda let out a short laugh. "The man in my head told me."

Mr. Cole cursed under his breath.

"I know how it sounds. I really do," Miranda told them. "I know I sound like a crazy person- maybe I am- but it's all true. Every word, I swear."

"Sweetheart," Mrs. Cole started.

Miranda wiped her eyes. "I wish you both could look at me and not have _pity_ or _sadness_ in your eyes _every time_… I wish you would believe me," she said softly. "But I know you can't or won't and I don't blame you. I just wish… one day you will." She turned to the Doctor. "I think we should go now."

The Doctor nodded and the pair slowly walked to the front door, Mr. and Mrs. Cole following.

"You won't get far," Mr. Cole warned. "The police will be here shortly."

"Good. When they get here, be sure to tell them exactly what happened," the Doctor told them.

He opened the door and stepped out into the snowy grounds. Miranda lagged behind, looking at her parents.

"Don't go, Miranda," her mother implored. "We can help you."

She looked at them sadly. "I love you. Both of you. But you can't help me until you've felt crazy too, until something impossible has happened and you can't believe it but you have to."

Mr. Cole looked at her coldly and Mrs. Cole shook her head slowly in confusion.

"When the police get here," Miranda started, "Tell them your daughter ran away with an alien. Tell them that we went into a blue box and disappeared right before your eyes."

"Miranda," Mr. Cole drawled.

"Bye," she said quickly and ran to catch up with the Doctor.

Mrs. Cole watched as her daughter and the Doctor walked inside a tall blue box. She grabbed Mr. Cole's shoulder. "Tom…?"

"When did that thing get there?" he asked, stepping outside to get a better look. Mrs. Cole followed, crossing her arms to keep warm.

"It's a blue box, Tom," Mrs. Cole whispered.

A loud noise emitted from the box, a machine-like grinding sound that paralleled the flashing blue light on the top. And then something impossible happened. The blue box began to fade and then disappeared entirely, noise, lights and all. Mr. and Mrs. Cole stared in shock at the space of empty land until they heard sirens approaching. They looked at each other and couldn't speak.

* * *

><p>Miranda stood on the platform with one arm braced on the railing, the other pinching the bridge of her nose. The Doctor watched her from the console. He nodded to himself after a moment and walked up beside her, keeping his head ducked and his hands in his pockets. The Doctor leaned against the railing. She noticed his presence and straightened up.<p>

"That went _well_," she said dryly, hiding the pain in her voice.

"It could've been worse," he replied.

"It could've been better," she snorted.

The Doctor met her eyes. "But it could've been worse," he said softly.

Miranda looked away and nodded. "Yeah."

They were silent for a moment then the Doctor sprang up and clapped his hands once. He turned around with a grin.

"How many people does it take to change a light bulb?" the Doctor asked, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

Miranda gave him a pained expression. "Are you about to tell a joke?"

"No, that was a legitimate question. Honestly. Take a guess."

She was about to refuse such an absurd query but decided to humor him. "One," she replied.

The Doctor's smile grew. "_Normally_, you'd be right. But! In space, it takes two."

Miranda stared at him, unconvinced.

"I'm being serious! Have you ever tried changing a light bulb in near zero gravity? Not a pleasant experience!"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"_Because_, the bulb just went out," he explained, pointing downwards. "After this long, it's not a wonder."

She frowned, "You're pointing down."

"Yes."

"The light bulb is on the roof," she said, pointing up.

"On the roof, yes, but the roof is three floors down. Today."

She stared at him, incredulously. The Doctor nodded at her and waved his hands dismissively, "Yes, yes. I know it's confusing but up isn't always up. The TARDIS shifts rooms and doors and such when she's bored. Sort of like a puzzle. Today, the trapdoor to the roof is three floors below the console room." He shook his head, realizing he went off track. "But none of that matters! Light bulb, you, me. It's a date!"

He dashed away off of the glass platform and went into a small closet off to the side. As he rummaged through, he tossed odd bits from the back including a broken pogo stick, a stack of unmarked CDs and number of ponchos. "Ah ha!" he cried in triumph as he reemerged holding a long piece of red rope.

"Is that a bungee cord?" she asked curiously.

"Yup! Always keep a spare although I don't suggest using it for _actual_ bungee jumping. _Unless_ of course you're in deep space," he grinned.

The Doctor secured one of the leg restraints on his ankle then turned to Miranda. "Oh no," she said, realizing his intentions. "_No_, I don't think so."

"Not taking no for an answer!" he grinned, dashing forward and grabbing her leg before she could move.

The Doctor started to fasten the cord around one of her ankles. Miranda only tried to shake him off once then rolled her eyes. "This is ridiculous," she protested once he was finished.

His grin only widened. "I _know_. Isn't it great? What other time does the option for deep space bungee jumping come into effect when changing a light bulb?"

With some reluctance and curiosity, she followed him to the front doors where he was tying off the end of the rope to the nearest rail. She shrugged off the trench and hung it on the coat rack by the door. The Doctor opened the white interior doors with a snap of his fingers and looked at her with a boyish smile. She was staring out into space with a look of utmost wonder.

"Ready?"

"Are you sure this is safe?" she asked, not taking her eyes from the open doors.

"Of course," he said confidently. "Unless the cord snaps or a sudden asteroid field comes up or an unfriendly ship passes by or…" He realized he wasn't reassuring her fears. "We'll be fine."

She gave him an apprehensive face.

"Trust me," he smiled.

Miranda turned back to the door and nodded. The Doctor held up a hand which she considered then took.

"Running start?"

She shook her head carelessly. "What the hell," she said. "Why not?"

The Doctor grinned at her. "One… two…" She squeezed his hand tighter.

"Three!" they shouted in unison and ran towards the open doors.

As soon as she jumped, Miranda felt weightless as if a giant hand of air caught her. She and the Doctor glided forward, propelled by the force of their leap. It was like she was flying in slow motion. Miranda was vaguely reminded of Peter Pan and Wendy, only the Doctor was in tweed, not tights (thankfully) and she was in an asylum uniform, not a nightgown. She could hardly believe it was real. A gentle tug on her ankle sent her drifting backwards towards the TARDIS, her hair splaying out in front of her face.

She turned around to see the blue light on the TARDIS glowing. "Hey," she started, "The light didn't go out."

"Oh, I guess not," the Doctor shrugged. "That's good because I forgot to bring a light bulb."

Miranda gave him a disapproving look for fibbing but let it slide. The pair reached the TARDIS and the Doctor motioned for her to come to the top. "But the bulb hasn't blown," Miranda said, confused at his intentions.

"Just come on," he urged, pulling her up.

They were able to sit on top of the TARDIS, with only a hand on the rim to prevent them from floating off. Miranda looked around at all of the stars surrounding them as the TARDIS slowly moved through space. Suddenly her eyes grew wide and she glanced around frantically.

"Oh my God," she gasped. "Oh my… Is this? Are we in Draco?"

The Doctor laughed. "Oh yes! We're on the back of the dragon now," he joked. "Have you ever been part of a constellation before?"

"No!" she grinned, looking at the brightest stars. "This is _amazing_… I can't believe it. We're sitting in the middle of the constellation, _Draco_!"

He looked at her side long and smiled at her enthusiasm. "Look behind you," he told her.

Miranda turned to see a very bright light in the distance. She watched, her mouth open, as they drifter nearer. It was quite clear that it wasn't a star. "Is that…" she started then trailed off. "Is that the Cat's Eye Nebula?"

"_The_ one and only," the Doctor replied, leaning back on his elbows.

She turned fully around, sitting on her knees, one hand braced on the TARDIS' lantern. The Cat's Eye Nebula was a swirl of brilliant colors. In the center was a bright white glow surrounded by purples and magenta and encased in an oval of fiery shades of red. Just on the outskirts were clusters of golden tones and vibrant greens swirling and circling the massive cloud of gas and dust.

Miranda was stunned beyond compare, too mesmerized to even manage a smile. A tear rolled up the length of her eyelash and floated off into space.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. "More than that, it's… I don't know. It's the most magnificent thing I've ever seen…"

"Just imagine what you'll see _tomorrow_."

Miranda tore her gaze from the nebula to look at the Doctor. "What are you saying?"

He raised his brows at the question. "Well, it's a great big universe out there," he said. "Lots of planets and people and so many stars you've never even heard of."

"Are you inviting me… to _stay_?" she pressed, looking at him surprised.

"Yeah, I am," he said with a glimmer in his eyes.

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why _me_?"

"Why _not_ you?" he asked.

Miranda hesitated. "Do you always pick up girls from mental institutions?"

"That's actually a first," he replied. "Firsts don't happen often so that's really saying _something_."

"But you do pick up girls," she said smartly.

The Doctor was quick to protest. "Not _girls_. That sounds creepy. _People_," he stressed. "I pick up _people_. No, not pick up. I sometimes invite people along. Traveling companions."

"What happened to them?" she asked.

The Doctor looked at her somberly before speaking. "They left."

"All of them?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He sighed, looking at his hands. "Some of them… realize they'd be better off somewhere else."

Miranda stared at him. It was obvious he was pained by retelling this but she couldn't let it go. "And the others…?" she asked quietly.

He looked back at her. "I realized it for them."

She was silent as she considered what he meant. "What if… one of them _wasn't_ better off anywhere else?"

The Doctor gave her a half smile. "Then they could stay as long as they wanted."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Miranda smiled back and looked away. "Thank you," she breathed.

"Well! We should get back inside," the Doctor said briskly. "I expect you're eager to change out of those clothes."

"Definitely."

* * *

><p>Once safely back in the TARDIS and under the normal influence of gravity, Miranda watched as the Doctor locked the doors.<p>

"Where was the wardrobe again?" she asked, stepping onto the raised platform.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Most of your clothes are already unpacked."

She raised a brow. "My clothes?"

"Yes. I made a little stop at a storage center and grabbed some of your belongings," he said, moving around the console.

She narrowed her eyes. "So you _assumed_ I'd say 'yes'."

He looked at her suddenly with a smirk. "I _assumed_ you wouldn't say 'no'."

Miranda rolled her eyes at him.

"Your room's up these steps, down the second hall, up the stairs, fifth door on the ceiling," he told her, setting to work on the console levers and dials.

"On the ceiling?"

"You'll see. Now run along," he dismissed with a smile. "Humans need _rest_, apparently. It's going to be a big day tomorrow! Or today. Or yesterday. Haven't decided."

Miranda shook her head and headed up the staircase. "Goodnight, Doctor."

"Night!" he called to her as she disappeared down the hall.

He looked up to stare at the hallway a moment longer. Gradually the smile slipped from his lips and his expression darkened. The Doctor looked up at the monitor hanging before him and watched the video playing.

_A nine year old Miranda Cole walked over to the ledge of her roof. Her head tilted back as she looked up at the night sky. The Doctor hesitantly came up behind her. His arm stretched towards her and stopped as he hesitated. _

The Doctor paused the tape and shut his eyes with a held breath. He hung his head in thought and glanced back up at the screen.

"Miranda Cole," he whispered, looking at the still image of the innocent little girl. "How long can you go on stargazing?"

* * *

><p>AN: Haven't been getting as many reviews as the other chapters but then again, I haven't let five months pass in between posting them so… Well a big thank you to everyone who <em>did<em> took the time to review! Honestly, I appreciate it! I **LOVE** getting feedback! Hope you liked this chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you all SO SO much for leaving a review or dropping a message! I've read them all multiple times (as I always do). It really makes me giddy whenever I read one. Thanks again! Well, I would have had this out sooner but I needed to work out some serious plot details. I felt it better to leave you hanging on a decent chapter ending then one right in the middle of an episode arc. This'll pick up RIGHT where we left off… really, the exact moment, because it was going to be part of the last chapter. Right…

Beautiful TARDIS interior shots! She _really_ is gorgeous. (EDIT: fixed links!)

www . petermckinstry (dot com) /USERIMAGES/TARDIS%20CORRIDOR%20sm . jpg

scifiandtvtalk . files . wordpress 2010/04/who60 . jpg

* * *

><p>Chapter Thirteen: An Old and New Beginning<p>

Miranda crept down the TARDIS hallway with caution. The fact that the TARDIS was alive unnerved her quite a bit and the prospect of getting lost seemed very unappealing. The hallways were tunnel-like with round arches and vein work that reminded her of coral. Random bits of piping and knobs lined the bottom of some walls, all of which seemed to emit a glow. Several round windows were scattered about the halls, some bearing curved reflective surfaces and others, circular orange lenses. There was a metal grating under her feet and beneath that was a soft blue light. It was all very odd but seemed to fit together nicely. Not exactly her first mental image of the inside of an alien spaceship. She smiled at the thought- she was inside an _alien_ spaceship! And not the first time either.

She climbed a set of metal stairs, the converse making little noise. "Fifth door…on the ceiling," she murmured, looking up. Sure enough, there were a number of rectangular panels fitted in the top of the new hall which was much wider compared to the one she'd just been in. The fifth door, if you could call it that, was set at the end and was designated with a small engraved question mark. There was no knob or string to pull.

"How the hell do I get in?" she asked aloud. "Is that what the question mark is for? To laugh at me?"

"Sorry! Forgot to tell you!" came the Doctor's voice as he hurried up the steps to meet her. "Never had to tell anyone how to use one of these doors. Everyone else has had regular doors."

"Well, aren't I _special_?" Miranda said with a sour expression.

"Oh, don't say it like that. These doors are cool! Psychic doors! They were all the rage back in my days," he said with a nostalgic smile.

"What days were those, exactly?"

"About the time English draughts was invented… also called checkers. Never mind that! Back to the door!" the Doctor said, waving his hands. "Just mentally tell the door to open- don't worry! It's not as _complicated_ as using the sonic to open doors. Both know you're a bit rubbish at that…"

Miranda shot him a look and he put his hands up defensively.

"Here, have a go," he said, stepping aside.

Skeptically, she looked up at the panel and simply thought 'open'. At once, the hatch popped open and a wooden ladder unfolded and slid down to the floor.

"Don't look, don't look!" the Doctor cried, jumping into her line of vision.

"What? Why not?" she frowned, eager to peek into her new room.

"It's a surprise."

Miranda was going to make a sharp reply but sighed instead; she really _was_ tired.

"Close your eyes and follow me," he told her.

She rolled her eyes behind her lids. "Blindly climb up a ladder, you mean. Shouldn't you be _behind_ me?" she asked, taking a hold of a step.

"Of course not," came the Doctor's reply from above her. "How could I make sure you aren't peeking from behind you?"

She rolled her eyes again. "This had better be good," she teased once she got to the top. The Doctor's hand steadied her and led her further into the room. He let go then spoke. "Okay. Open."

Miranda opened her eyes and nearly fell over.

The floor was a solid metal surface, silver and polished so that it acted as a giant mirror; it circular and was devoid of any furniture. Reflecting in it would have been the walls and ceiling, had there been any. Encasing the room was a massive glass dome and beyond it were the vast starry cosmos. Miranda turned on the spot, taking in the view from all angles. It was as if she were standing in space. Stars above her and on all sides and reflected under her feet.

"Surprised?" the Doctor asked.

She glanced at him with a half smile. "Yeah. A _bit_."

He grinned back then remembered something. "Oh! I haven't even shown you the best part! Look there," he said, pointing to the middle of the room.

Her eyes focused on a shape hovering just above the ground. She hadn't noticed it at first since it was a silvery color and like the floor, reflected the starscape. She walked closer, her brows furrowing. "Is that a…?"

"Yes!"

She looked at the Doctor's excited expression with incredibility. One of her brows rose. "A _hammock_?"

"Yes! Isn't it wonderful?" he exclaimed, prancing over to it.

Miranda stared, looking at him and the hammock distastefully. "Not the word I'd use," she muttered.

"It was _this_ or bunk beds- hard choice, I know. But I figured there's only one of you and no one likes the bottom bunk anyway," said the Doctor, looking at the hammock proudly. "What do you think?"

Miranda gave him a small smile, choosing not to express her aversion for the hammock. The Doctor had done so much for her and she was forever grateful. She could put up with his odd taste in bedding. "It's wonderful," she answered finally.

He smiled then remembered another thing. "Oh! Downstairs are the wardrobe and the loo. You should find most of your belongings put away."

Off to the side was a set of stairs leading down below the floor. Miranda carefully crept down to look around, the Doctor behind her. The walls were glass, letting the stars show through but the ceiling and floor were a solid blue. There was a door straight ahead which she assumed led to the bathroom; she decided to look in a bit later. In the middle was a circular wardrobe with many curved drawers of varying sizes. Curious, she opened one and found some of her blouses, all dark colors. The next was stocked with her undergarments which she quickly closed with a blush. Miranda glanced at the Doctor who didn't seem to be looking. I sure hope _he_ didn't put my things away, she thought warily. Another drawer's contents caused her to look at the Doctor questioningly.

"Bow ties?"

He looked surprised and trotted over to see for himself. Sure enough, the drawer was stuffed with bow ties of all different patterns and colors. He grinned at her and shrugged. "Just a suggestion," he said, shutting the drawer and knocking on it twice. He opened it again to reveal it was now filled with bright colored socks. "That's a bit more practical."

Miranda gave a half smile. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," he replied with a shake of his head.

"I want to though," Miranda pressed, meeting his eyes. "_Thank you_."

The Doctor smiled slightly then nodded after a moment, breaking eye contact. "Well," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Best be off to bed."

"Oh, hold on," Miranda called. "One question."

The Doctor raised a brow.

"The only windows on the _outside_ were rectangular so, how is all of _this_ showing through? I mean, shouldn't there be a big glass bubble on the outside?"

"It's bigger on the inside," he said simply which only annoyed her.

"Yes, I know but the windows-"

"The windows are bigger on the inside too."

"I don't… think that makes sense," she said. "They're _rectangles_… flat _rectangles_."

The Doctor rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh, you humans and your questions! Trying to understand everything. Takes all the fun out of it."

"So you're not going to tell me?"

"Already have."

She frowned at him. "It's bigger on the inside?"

"Yup!"

"Right," she drawled, walking back up to the main room.

"Goodnight for real this time," he said, heading towards the ladder. "See you."

Miranda waved as the Doctor disappeared down the shute. The trapdoor and ladder folded up so that the room was closed off. A wave of exhaustion swept over her and she quickly changed into comfortable clothes and carefully got into her bed- er hammock. It was actually rather comfortable. The hammock was about the size of a queen bed and just as cushioned. The fabric of the blankets and sheets was unusual, as sleek as satin but as heavy and warm as cotton. Must be an alien comforter, she thought sleepily as she gazed up at the stars. For once in a very long time, Miranda Cole was able to drift off to sleep without worry of creatures watching her or nurses drugging her or even a certain someone appearing in her dreams. She was safe and sound in the TARDIS- just her and the Doctor and the vastness of space to keep her company.

* * *

><p><em>A school bell rang out. <em>

_Nine year old Miranda stood in an empty classroom, clad in pajamas and very confused. Confused because she didn't know how she arrived at school for she had been at home just moments before and also, because there was a strange man lying on the floor. She was certain she had never seen him at school before and wondered who he was and if he was alright._

_He began to stir and Miranda watched curiously as he picked himself off the ground. She could see him properly now. He was older than her by maybe twenty years or so and was wearing a blue bow tie which she thought was rather odd. The man looked around bewildered as if he were just as surprised as her to be in the classroom._

"_Excuse me," she called, startling him somewhat for he hadn't noticed her before. "Could you help me?" she asked. "I should be at home. I mean I was but… I don't know how I got to school. Do you think I could borrow a phone?"_

_The man looked at her in amazement like he had never seen a little girl before and narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?" he asked finally, his voice low and smooth._

_He didn't seem very friendly at all and the way he was leering made Miranda feel very nervous. "Are… are you a teacher?"_

_The man furrowed his brow in annoyance. "I asked you a question, little girl," he growled. "That isn't an acceptable answer. Now let's try again. Who. Are. You?"_

_Miranda didn't speak but backed up slowly. This man was scary and she was fairly certain he wasn't a teacher as well. "I don't think I should tell you," she said bravely._

"_Is that so?" he asked with a raised brow. The man seemed more amused than angry at her refusal to give her name. He blinked and looked away from her suddenly as if he heard something. A look of concentration crossed his features then the corner of his lips turned upwards. "A psychic link," he whispered to himself. "Oh, that explains it. That explains everything. I'm in two places at once. Two minds- the Doctor's and… yours."_

_His eyes flickered to the girl and he laughed. "Oh this is just _brilliant_," he said dryly. "Trading one prison for another!"_

"_I have to get home before my parents know I'm gone," Miranda said to him. "I've been up too late looking for falling stars… I need to get to bed."_

"_Idiot, girl," he sneered, taking a step nearer but stopped quickly as the room began to quake. The classroom walls started to crumble and the roof shook fiercely. Alarmed, he looked from the collapsing room to the girl who looked only slightly worried._

"_I… should go," he heard the girl mutter._

_She was doing this, controlling the world of her mind. If she realized it, she could cast him out and destroy him. He couldn't let that happen. In one swift motion, he advanced on the girl and slapped her with enough force to send her to the ground. The room stopped shaking. He looked down at her to see the girl looking at him fearfully yet she didn't cry._

"_Go? No, I don't think so. You see, I'm going to be here for a very long time if I've got things right," the man said matter of factly. "And I'm going to need entertainment which is where you come in, Miranda… Miranda Courtney Cole."_

"_H-how do you know my name?" she asked, wide eyed._

_The man smirked. "Little Miranda, your mother calls you. Yes, I like that. I like that very much," he said with a grin which quickly disappeared. "Now get up. Do as I say, Little Miranda, or else there's a slap for your other cheek."_

_Hesitantly, Miranda stood, looking at the stranger with dread. "Who- who are you?" she managed to ask._

_He looked away from her at the surrounding room, deciding to test his dominance over her mind. With a single thought, the roof of the classroom flew straight off and the walls and desks were blown outward. Miranda let out a shriek and the man merely smirked. He changed the area so that they were standing an old Gallifreyan council room. Upon the walls sprang up a tall imposing shadow that split and multiplied, watching the pair with beady white eyes. Satisfied, he turned back to the bewildered girl._

"_Who am I?" he repeated. "You could never guess. But for simplicity's sake, Little Miranda, I am the worst nightmare you'll ever have."_

* * *

><p>Miranda awoke slowly, letting the memory slip from her mind. That was when she fell from the roof, the night when she first met the Valeyard. It was odd, she never dreamed of complete memories before. "Maybe it's the TARDIS," she said in a raspy morning voice and cringed. She rubbed her eyes and lay back in the hammock, still nestled in the warm blankets.<p>

Stars and moons and planets were whirring and swirling by Miranda's vision as she stared up at the ceiling, so fast she could barely distinguish them. "We must be traveling faster," she said to herself and carefully rolled out of the hammock. "I'd better get ready."

* * *

><p>The Doctor circled the console, flipping levers, spinning knobs, pushing buttons, pressing a foot pedal and then hitting a large button with a hammer. The TARDIS hurtled through space and time, heading towards its destination that may or may not have been what the Doctor had intended. The familiar grinding noise filled the console room just as Miranda started down the stairs, wearing jeans and a dark plum colored blouse, the sleeves reaching her palms. She had managed to detangle the worst of her hair, compliments of some weird alien shampoo (or at least, she <em>thought<em> it was shampoo), and had it pulled back in a messy bun.

"Hi-whoa!" she cried as the TARDIS lurched sideways, causing her to slip and hang onto the rail.

"Good to see you're up," the Doctor called, oblivious to the fact that she nearly broke her ankle. "Just in time too. We're about to land!"

Miranda perked up at that, pushing aside her annoyance. "Land? Land _where_? Or when?" Once the TARDIS was stable, she trotted down to the platform.

"_We_ are on the planet Chimeria," the Doctor said with a half grin. "Also known as The Garden Planet. Three times the size of Earth- nothing but _green_ as far as the eye can see. At this time of year, actually, descendants of the Forest of Cheem should arrive to bring seedlings- cutest little trees you'll ever see! No bigger than your thumbnail. All drifting through the air, thousands and thousands, each singing the Song of Rebirth for their first photosynthesis…" He sniffed. "It's actually quite beautiful. People normally cry the first time they see it- I did."

Miranda gave a small smile, trying to imagine what he described. "That's all out there?" she asked, looking at the doors.

The Doctor tilted his head with a smirk. "See for yourself."

With an excited grin, Miranda ran to the front doors, unlocked them quickly and threw them open. Her smile dropped as she stared at the world in front of her.

"Green as far as the eye can see?" she deadpanned.

The Doctor came up behind her looking confused. "Oh… maybe not as green as I remembered," he said, scratching the back of his head.

"There isn't a tree in sight," she frowned then looked at him for an answer.

"Well, we might have taken a wrong turn or two," he said hesitantly, looking around.

"You mean you got _lost_?" Miranda cried, all images of the Doctor being a wise and knowing traveler flying right out the window.

"_No_," he said indignantly, "Not _lost_. We've just had an unplanned rest stop. No big deal. Might as well poke about." He locked the TARDIS doors and started off, Miranda hesitantly following.

Every which way one turned was a shade of white, all dim and drained. They were smack dab in the middle of a large city, surrounded on all sides by towering sky scrapers. The land was covered in a thick white fog that was only few inches high but enough to completely mask the ground. There were no cars or people or any sign that anyone had ever been there before- just rows upon rows of buildings. It was also very quiet, too quiet one might say. Not a sound of anything or anyone aside from the very light footsteps the pair had as they walked in between buildings.

"This place is creeping me out," Miranda whispered, glancing behind her. That feeling of paranoia was rising and giving her the chills.

"It's not that bad," the Doctor shrugged. "Just quiet. Great place to practice yodeling, I'd say."

"Please _don't_."

He smiled slightly at her vexed expression then looked ahead. "Oh, that should help!" he grinned, running up to a sign. It was a large flat monitor stationed in front of one of the buildings that read:

_Bram, The Finale of Rest. _

_Population: 9._

"Oh, that's it! Bram!"

"What's Bram?" asked Miranda.

The Doctor hesitated. "The, er, Finale of Rest."

"Yeah, I got that much," she snorted. "What does that _mean_, exactly?"

"Well, it's uh a place… where people go to rest… in a final sort of state," he said, struggling to sound as vague as possible.

Miranda squinted at him. "You mean a… final resting place?"

"That's one way of rearranging what I said, yeah."

"Hold on," she barked. "Are you trying to tell me that this… planet-"

"-_moon_."

"-Is a giant… _graveyard_?"

He made a pained expression. "It sounds better as the Finale of Rest. The term _graveyard_ makes people nervous."

"These buildings, then? Are they?"

"Places of rest."

"Tombs?" she cried, looking around at all the buildings. They'd be surrounded by so many bodies, so many dead bodies.

"There you go again with terms that make people nervous," the Doctor frowned. "Just look at yourself, already shaking!"

"We're on moon gra-" she stopped at seeing the Doctor's reproachful look. "Place of rest…"

"Not that scary now, eh?"

She pursed her lips. "No, it's still pretty disturbing." She crossed her arms, "Why would anyone turn a moon into a… you know."

The Doctor shrugged. "Burials have fallen out of fashion, honestly but some still like the idea. Bram's one of a few moons that was converted. Only the rich can afford a slot though- entire blocks are reserved for families."

Miranda looked at the buildings uncertainly. "That's interesting and all but can we go? You promised singing trees, after all."

"Aw, that's no fun. Look," he said pointing to the monitor. "Population _nine_- there's only _two_ of us."

"Your point?"

"Thought we'd say hello."

"I'd rather not muck about with a bunch of people who spend their time in _grave-yards_."

"I'm sure there's a reason. Hold on," he began, pulling out his sonic to tweak the monitor. The greeting changed and a message appeared:

_Today's event- the finale gathering for the Duke of Manhattan. Only those with special invitation will be allowed admittance. See map below for directions._

"Oh well," Miranda said in mock disappointment. "No invites, let's go."

"Like that's ever stopped me. Besides, the Duke and I go _way_ back," he said walking in the direction the map had shown.

"Are you joking?" she asked, still rooted to the spot.

"I'd _never_," he grinned over his shoulder. "Now come along! Allons-y!"

"You _swore_ to never say that again," she growled.

"Can't hear you!"

Miranda sighed, not liking this one bit. She looked at the tall buildings, feeling uneasy. There was that feeling again, eyes on her back. A soft crack came from behind and she whipped around, eyes wide. She saw nothing but the endless sky scrapers and fog. She stared, waiting for something to appear.

"We haven't got all day!"

Miranda turned, realizing just how far he had gone. Resting place or not, she wasn't going to be caught dead by herself- no pun intended, of course. "Doctor, wait up!" she shouted, running to catch up to him.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Impulsive posting, yay! Almost ensures typos!

I know I've only a few episode arcs out and this one isn't finished yet but I'd like to know which you prefer more and why. See, I've got about 17 arc ideas and know I can't fit them all into this story so I'm debating which I should use. Can't give any spoilers. But I'm curious as to what you readers would like to see- aside from a Doctor/Miranda snog-fest haha!

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><p>Chapter Fourteen: The Silent City<p>

"Excuse me!" called a very irritated female voice.

The Doctor and Miranda turned to face an old woman in a black dress suit, her white hair pulled into a tight bun. Black horn rimmed glasses sat on her nose, just before her narrowed eyes and her dark lip-sticked lips were pursed in a thin line.

"Only those with personal invitation from the Duke of Manhattan may attend his finale of rest ceremony," she stated, looking them over with distaste.

"_No_," the Doctor breathed with a smile. "Frau Clovis! Is that you?"

The woman blinked. "That _is_ my name though I don't believe I've met either of you," she said reluctantly.

"Aw, remember. Back at the hospital at New New York!" he exclaimed. "The outbreak of the Flesh? The birth of New humans? Giant conspiracy by the Sisters of Plentitude?"

Frau Clovis frowned. "The day the Duke of Manhattan was cured of Petrifold Regression, yes, I _was_ at the hospital. However, that knowledge does not grant you access to the ceremony."

The Doctor wasn't fazed and pulled out his black wallet. He held it open and grinned. "This should do it then. Personal invitation from the Duke."

Clovis squinted at the psychic paper then at the Doctor and Miranda. She pursed her lips again. "Attendance of the Duke of Manhattan's finale of rest ceremony does not entitle you to any property, possessions or power that the Duke of Manhattan left in his will."

"Right, of course," he dismissed. "But how is it that the Duke and you survived the Bliss virus? The whole Senate was wiped out. Were you on the motor way?"

"The Duke of Manhattan was away on business and I with him, being his personal assistant," Clovis stated. "We left New Earth _before_ the virus and quarantine."

Clovis regarded the Doctor with suspicion. "Tardiness to the Duke of Manhattan's ceremony will result in the void of personal invitation. You have two minutes." She looked them over once more then walked off into another room.

Miranda raised a brow, watching the old woman leave. "She always that friendly?"

"Just about."

The pair followed Clovis into the next room which was very much like the rest of the building- white and empty, save for a few minor additions. Several people were strewn about the room, talking quietly and eating from a buffet table- some of which were obviously not human. At the front of the room was a very large white casket with a small glass window where the face would be. She could just make out a white fog swirling beneath the glass.

"What's that?"

"Anti-Decomp Gas," he answered. "Same as outside. Prevents tissue decay. Makes the dead look they're only sleeping."

Miranda frowned. "So they never decompose?"

"Nope. So long as they remain in the gas."

"That seems a bit… mucked up. How are people supposed to cope with their loss if the person never ages," Miranda said. "The families could just come back anytime and see the person just as they were. Like they never died…"

The Doctor nodded. "Families don't bury their loved ones here to put them in a grave," he said solemnly. "They put them to rest, with a strong emphasis on _rest_, mind you. I wouldn't suppose they intend to cope."

Miranda's frown deepened. She looked above the casket to see a long and unsurprisingly white banner which read in pale blue writing: _Finale of Rest for the Duke of Manhattan (4,999,999,973-5,000,000,063)._

Miranda blinked. "Hold on," she started. "Are we in the year five billion and sixty-three?"

"Sure are," the Doctor smirked, noting that she sounded impressed.

"Five _billion_?"

"And sixty-three," he corrected with a nod. "You wouldn't believe the difference a few years can make."

Miranda gave a half smirk, shaking her head. "If I hadn't seen weirder, I wouldn't believe it, Doctor."

"Doctor?" came a male voice behind them. "Bless my whiskers, it can't be!"

They turned and Miranda's eyes grew. The person addressing them was tall and lean, wearing a blue suit with a high collar. On his head was a matching hat that resembled a bishop's with a point in the front and flaps that tied under the chin. The oddest thing about the person that made Miranda stare so blatantly was the fact that he very much, and arguably with no distinction at all, resembled a cat. His face was covered in black fur with stark white under his chin and neck as well as a small patch on the bridge of his nose which was flat and shiny. His eyes had human-like pupils, not slits like she expected, and were a bright green. Whiskers protruded from either side of his curved lips that moved ever so slightly as he grinned at the pair, revealing his white sharp teeth.

"Senator Henry Brannigan," he beamed, extending a furry hand.

"Brannigan?" the Doctor repeated, shaking the Senator's hand. "Noo. Not related to Thomas Kincade Brannigan, are you?"

"Aye! He was my father!" Henry beamed. "And from what he's told me, there's a man called the Doctor that saved everyone on the motorway some years back. You wouldn't happen to be the same?"

"Yes! That was me! Oh, I remember holding you when you were just a kitten!" the Doctor grinned. "Look how you've grown!"

Henry tilted his head. "Odd, you look nothing like dad described. Younger even."

The Doctor shrugged. "Eh, people change… faces. So! Senator now, is it? Yeah, I suppose they had some positions open after the Bliss."

The Senator's green eyes flicked to Miranda who was standing back, watching them with interest. "And who is your friend, Doctor? Not your Martha, is she?"

"No," the Doctor said curtly.

"Miranda Cole," she said, putting her hand out.

Henry smiled, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Cole." He grabbed her outstretched hand and brought it to his lips. Miranda twitched as the Senator's tongue scraped over the back of her hand in a cat-like kiss. She stared at him, rather horrified yet managed a polite if not stiff smile.

"Y-you too," she squeaked, trying to get over the fact that he had licked her hand.

"Ah, the pleasure is all mine," Henry purred. "I assure you."

She gave a short laugh that sounded like a cough. The Senator turned towards the front of the room for a moment. "Excuse me," he said, "I must pay my respects to the late Duke."

"Of course," said the Doctor. "We'll have to catch up later."

"Until then, Doctor," Henry nodded, turning to Miranda with a smile. "Miss Cole."

Miranda let out a breath when the Senator left.

"_Someone's_ got an admirer," the Doctor told her with a smirk.

She rounded on him with a wide eyed look. "A _cat_ was just flirting with me," she started in an incredulous tone.

"Be fair- _Catkind_," he corrected. "People are evolution sensitive. You wouldn't want someone calling you an ape now, would you?"

"Well, _no_," she admitted. "Sorry, I'm not used to political correctness with _aliens_."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

"Yeah, but maybe not the flirting bit."

The Doctor smiled. "The differences between you and other species are obvious. But. The more time you spend around them, you realize that those differences don't mean so much and that they are very very small compared to everything you have in common."

Miranda held his gaze for a moment then looked away. She thought about his words. She wasn't prejudiced or anything, really; the Senator had merely caught her off guard. She couldn't recall the last time _anyone_ had flirted with her- human or otherwise. _That's_ not as pathetic as it sounds, she thought dryly to herself.

She and the Doctor found themselves near the buffet. Miranda peered at the table of odd food and drink, her eyes landing on a bowl of blue liquid. "What's that?"

"Oh, that's… well, better not say," he said. "It's safe to drink. Unless you have a peanut allergy. Do you?"

"No," Miranda replied with an apprehensive look. "I think I'll pass anyway."

The Doctor nodded "Probably for the best."

A loud sizzling noise filled the room suddenly. "The floor!" someone cried, "Something's wrong with the floor!" All around the casket, smoke was rising from the ground. The hissing sound was growing louder, now accompanied by a creaking.

"Everyone stand back!" the Doctor ordered. "It's an acid!"

Seconds later, the floor where the casket sat gave way, crumbling to the level below them. After he was certain the rest of the floor was stable, the Doctor stepped forward to peer over the edge. Miranda stood beside him. "It goes straight through," she observed. "Right down to the bottom of the building!"

The Senator squinted through the plumes of smoke and rubble. "The casket's empty! The body has been taken!"

"What?"

Frau Clovis looked horrified. "Taken? In the case of a kidnapping, the Duke of Manhattan's ransom will be paid without hesitation."

"Doesn't look like they left a ransom note, does it?" Miranda stated.

"Who steals a dead body?" the Senator asked aloud. "And why?"

"Let's find out, shall we?" the Doctor grinned, rushing out through the door.

"Is he always this impulsive?" Senator Brannigan asked.

"Pretty much," Miranda sighed before running after him, the Senator right behind her.

By the time the pair made it to the landing and through the rubble, the Doctor was already a block ahead. He stopped in the middle of the fog covered road, sonicking for scans of life. Miranda and Senator Brannigan came up behind him.

"Anything?" she asked, looking at the green buzzing diode.

The sonic screwdriver went silent as the Doctor tucked it back into his jacket. "Something's out there," he answered, gazing into the city. "Something is very much _alive_ in this city."

"But where?" questioned the Senator. "My ears can detect the slightest sound for miles but now- nothing. If something was moving around, I'd hear it. Especially lugging around the dear ole Duke, no offense to him, of course."

The Doctor didn't take his eyes off the landscape. "Everywhere," he said softly. "They're everywhere. But you're right; I don't think they're moving."

"Then what?" whispered Miranda, feeling nervous.

"They're waiting."

"Waiting for what?" asked the Senator.

"To see if we're a threat, perhaps. I'm not entirely sure," the Doctor murmured.

Miranda looked all around, trying to see something, anything. If they were surrounded, why couldn't they see any? Were they invisible? Her gaze settled over another greeting sign and she noticed something was different. She frowned and moved closer to confirm she wasn't imagining things.

"Doctor?" she called quietly. He and the Senator stood on either side of her, reading the sign.

_Bram, the Finale of Rest._

_Population: 4._

"Population _four_?" repeated Senator Brannigan. "How can that be?"

"It should have gone up, shouldn't it?" Miranda asked. "If your sonic picked up life forms?"

"They must be off the radar somehow," the Doctor mused. "But that doesn't explain why the population count _dropped_."

On cue, a scream rang out and the trio ran towards the direction they came. A figure was running towards them.

"It's that crotchety old woman!" Miranda cried, as the person came nearer.

"They're gone!" Frau Clovis exclaimed when she met the three. Her hair and glasses were askew. "All gone!"

The Doctor grabbed her arms to steady her. "What happened?" he asked seriously. "Tell me what happened."

"It was so fast," she panted. "These creatures came and attacked the finale. Everyone was taken."

"How'd you escape, Frau?" asked the Senator.

"I made it to the lift but just barely," she answered.

"These creatures," the Doctor started, "What did they look like?"

Frau Clovis shook her head. "Like I said, it happened so fast. They were white, I think, and roughly human height. I remember their eyes… blood red."

They were silent for a moment then Clovis straightened her glasses and smoothed down her skirt. "The Duke of Manhattan would not have approved of this at his finale," she whispered more to herself.

"Doctor, do you know what they are, the creatures?" asked Miranda.

He frowned. "The description narrows it down but I'd have to see them to identify the species."

"Hopefully we won't get the chance," Senator Brannigan said gruffly.

"Help me!"

They turned to find a man approaching them. "Someone help!" he cried, hobbling over to the four.

"Mr. Ibthar!" Brannigan called. "However did you make it?"

The man approached them, looking rather sick and nervous. Mr. Ibthar appeared human to Miranda's eyes with dark skin and short hair, most likely in his forties. He wore a grey suit which was a few shades darker than it should have been seeing as he was dripping wet and had a moon shaped crest over the left pocket.

"Thank goodness I found someone!" he said, bending over to catch his breath. "I thought I was alone!"

"Hold on," Miranda began, eying the newcomer with unease. "That sign said population _four_, not five."

"What's she going on about?" Ibthar asked, opening one eye to glance at her.

"Moon scan reading said only four people were alive," Brannigan stated. "We weren't attacked so that's three…"

The Doctor looked between Clovis and Ibthar, "So one of you must be dead."

"What?" Clovis exclaimed, looking at the Doctor as if he were insane.

"He must be barmy," Ibthar drawled. "You don't believe this nonsense. Look at us, we're both fine! A little ruffled, yes, but fine."

"Let me see," the Doctor offered. He stepped forward and touched Ibthar's neck with two fingers. "You're cold," he said.

"Fell into the punch," Ibthar murmured. "Completely _ruined_ my suit."

The Doctor moved to check Frau Clovis. "You're just as cold. You didn't fall into the punch, did you?"

"I most certainly did _not_," she frowned. "Are you happy now, _Doctor_? That bloody sign is wrong."

"I'm sorry but the sign wasn't wrong," the Doctor said sadly. "You don't have a pulse."

Clovis blinked and put a hand to her neck. "This is…" She moved her hand to another area and then to her chest. She frowned. "This is… I can't be. I might have bumped my head but... Look at me, though! I'm standing here talking! I can't be dead."

"She's got a point," Miranda added. "If she's dead, how _is_ she standing here?"

"It must be the Anti-Decomp," the Doctor thought aloud.

"That _preserves_ bodies," Ibthar protested. "It doesn't being the dead back to life! I should know, I helped develop it!"

"But it _is_ preserving her body," the Doctor said, looking at the dead woman curiously. "Preserving her exactly as she was. The dead that are buried here are _brought_ here dead and the gas keeps them that way. But if you come here _alive_ and die here…"

"The gas keeps you as you were," Brannigan finished, his eyes wide.

"Perfectly preserved," Ibthar whispered.

They all stared at Clovis for a moment, in awe of the discovery. "So she's a zombie?" Miranda asked. "Tell me she's not going to start craving brains."

Frau Clovis glared at the young woman. "I may be deceased but I can _still_ have you arrested. I have reason to suspect you weren't really given personal invitation by the Duke of-"

"Oh, come off it," Miranda growled. "Get some perspective, will you?"

"Stop it," the Doctor intervened. "Both of you, stop. We need to find somewhere safe. Those creatures are still out there."

"There's a control tower not far from here," Ibthar suggested. "We could signal for help o-or trick the scanners. See exactly what we're up against."

"Sounds like a plan," the Doctor agreed. "Eyes and ears open everyone."

The four walked carefully down the empty street, eyes scanning the area. Miranda felt jumpy beyond belief and for good reason. These creatures moved silently and without detection. She couldn't help but feel as if something was going to leap out at them. She looked over her shoulder and paused. A tuft of fog had been kicked up from the ground, swirling off into the air. She gulped.

"Something's behind us," she hissed, causing Ibthar and Clovis to turn around.

"They're all around us," the Senator breathed. "I can hear them now, scurrying along with us."

"Is it an ambush?" Clovis asked with a stern expression.

"No," answered the Doctor. "Not yet anyway."

"Oh, well, that's comforting," Miranda said dryly.

Frau Clovis frowned. "Exactly, how far is this control tower?"

Ibthar looked back at her. "About five blocks," he answered hesitantly.

"Five blocks?" repeated Clovis. "Just _great_."

Senator Brannigan stopped walking, his ears perked beneath his hat. "They're moving closer!" he cried.

"Everyone inside!" the Doctor shouted, motioning at the nearest building. As they ran, even Miranda could hear the scratching of claws on the road. They rushed towards the skyscraper and quickly piled inside. Miranda put a hand over her chest, trying to calm her frantic heart. It sounded like they were right on top of-

"Where's Ibthar?" the Doctor questioned.

Miranda looked around and noticed that Ibthar wasn't among them.

"They must have him!" Sen. Brannigan gasped, hurrying to the door. He opened it a crack and peeked out. "I can't see a thing. But I hear them moving away from us."

"They took the engineer," Clovis sighed. "I sure hope one of you knows how to operate the control system."

"We're not doing anything before finding Ibthar and the others," the Doctor said. "He should be taken to where the others are being kept."

"Who cares?" Clovis exclaimed, "He's gone and probably dead by now."

"As dead as _you_, maybe!" Miranda glared.

Sen. Brannigan stepped between the two women. "I'll find Ibthar. I can track the creature's movements and bring back the others," he said firmly. "If you're as amazing as the stories I've heard, Doctor, you'll get us out of this alright."

The Doctor nodded, "I'll do my best, Senator."

"Hold on," Miranda started. "You're not going by yourself, are you?"

The Senator grinned at her concern. "No need to worry, dear. I'm not afraid of creatures that run and hide like rats."

She shook her head. "I'm going with you."

"Miranda," the Doctor warned.

"No," Miranda asserted. "Two sets of eyes are better than one. And ears. I'll go with the Senator, you two find out what's going on."

The Doctor hesitated.

"I've made up my mind," Miranda stated. "We're just wasting time now." She turned and headed to the door before anyone could question her further.

"Keep her safe, Henry," the Doctor told Brannigan who grinned.

"I'd give my nine lives to protect her," he pledged.

"Yeah," the Doctor murmured. "I'd give thirteen."

He watched as Miranda slowly stepped outside. She looked very brave and very nervous- classic Miranda. The Doctor looked at his feet for a moment before stealing another glance at his companion. Miranda was biting her nails now, looking around. He held back a smile.

"Well, good luck!" Senator Brannigan wished as the rest stepped outside again. "They're headed that way," he said, pointing straight ahead. "We must move if we don't wish to lose them, Miss Cole."

Miranda looked to the Doctor, somewhat regretting her decision to split from him. "I'll see you later," she said to him, hoping that she was right. He held her gaze and gave a half smile. "I'll see you later," he affirmed.

They then went their separate ways, into the maze of skyscrapers that housed the dead. Miranda stayed closed to the Senator and glanced over her shoulder. The Doctor and Frau Clovis were no longer in sight, only a trail of disturbed fog indicated they were ever there. She stared until the fog settled back over the ground. Miranda was aware of the growing knot in her stomach but didn't let it stop her from moving forward into the silent city and into the heart of danger.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: So writing out scenes for future chapters and knowing that you guys aren't going to read them for awhile is REALLY frustrating. Now I know how River Song feels…. Ha, no I don't.

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><p>Chapter Fifteen: The Concealed<p>

The skyscrapers looked down upon the travelers with an impassive interest as they weaved through the land of mist and mystery, appearing so small on the moon's vast surface. The thick white fog washed over Miranda's trainers as she slowly crept down the street and closed in around her heels, leaving almost no trail. Senator Brannigan was beside her, his footing much lighter than her own and his footsteps much less audible.

"Senator, can you still hear them?" Miranda asked, the silence weighing on her nerves.

"Their footsteps grow faint," he responded after a moment. "But yes, I can hear them still, Miss Cole. Don't fret." He turned to her with a grin. "And please, call me Henry."

"Alright. Henry, then," she replied, looking at the feline with curiosity. "So long as you lose the 'Miss Cole' business. Just Miranda."

Henry nodded in return. "If you insist, _Just Miranda_."

She snorted in a laugh-like manner. The Senator's grin dropped suddenly and he placed an arm out to halt Miranda's steps. "What is it?" she asked, looking at him worriedly.

He paused a moment, listening. "Our footfalls have an echo now."

Miranda raised a brow and tapped her foot on the ground to try and hear it herself. She shook her head. "Still don't hear it. But what does that mean?"

"It means," Henry began, crouching down. "That the ground under us is hollow."

"Hollow?" Miranda repeated, peering over his shoulder.

The Senator waved a hand over the fog, temporarily shifting it aside. They could see the ground now. Still on his haunches, he moved forward some more, waving the fog away. After a moment, he happened upon a different result other than solid land. Beneath the fog was a large gaping hole, haphazardly dug out of the ground as if made by claws.

"What have we here?" whispered Henry.

Miranda knelt down beside him, clearing away more the fog with her hand. "How far down is it, do you think?"

"Not too deep," Henry replied, "for me at least." He glanced at her warily. "I'm going down."

He stood, peering down into the hole and Miranda got to her feet shakily, much less graceful than the Catkind Senator. "Well, you can't leave me," she protested. "I didn't come along to just sit up here and guard a hole."

Henry laughed heartily. "I suppose you're right. Still, best not risk a strained ankle. Hop on!" He bent his knees, motioning for her to get on his back.

Miranda hesitated. "Er, are you sure?"

"Of course! Don't worry, my dear. I always land on my feet!" he chortled.

Feeling somewhat awkward, Miranda put her arms around his neck and Henry lifted her up. I feel like a five year old, she thought with a suppressed sigh. "Hold on tight, Miranda," Henry warned, leaning over the edge. She did so, her thoughts flashing back to the Doctor. "On the count of three," Henry continued.

Was the Doctor alright?

"One…"

Was _she_ going to be alright?

"Two…"

Miranda shut her eyes.

"Three!"

Her eyes snapped open just before the leap. "Geronimo," she whispered, the word suddenly bringing a sad sense of nostalgia and yearning.

Henry jumped and the two of them plunged into the dark chasm, the air rushing past them with a soft whistle. They landed with barely any noise and Henry, as he promised, kept on his toes. He let Miranda down and the pair searched the surroundings with unease. She was fairly certain Henry's cat-eyes could distinguish more than hers but didn't think there was much more to see. They were in a cavern of some kind, dark and damp with dug out tunnels of dirt and rock. The air was heavy, full of the white fog from above that made the caves appear hazy. She looked up and could see the hole from which they came was already clouding over with the thick fog, small swirls of it spiraling down towards them.

"The tricky bastards," Henry said. "No wonder we couldn't catch sight of them. They've been traveling by tunnels the whole time, popping up only to attack us, I'd wager."

"So… You've only been tracking the echoes of their movements," Miranda guessed. "Brilliant. At least we know they weren't invisible the whole time."

"Aye," Henry said with a grin. "We must not linger. Ibthar and the others have limited time, if still any."

Miranda nodded and the two began walking slowly. She glanced sideways at Henry. His eyes shone in the dark, reflecting what little light was down there, dark green and then red when he shifted his gaze. "Can you see in the dark?"

He smiled at her. "Not as clearly as I'd like but yes. It's a bit of a grayish blur but I can make out shapes and movement… Nothing's moving, so you know."

She made a quiet 'hm'.

"So are you and the Doctor…?"

Miranda raised her brows. "Am I and the Doctor _what_?"

"Together?" Henry finished.

"No! No, no," she said shaking her head. "I mean we're traveling together but we aren't a…a couple. Just no."

"Ah... I wasn't sure. I'm surprised you parted from him, really."

Miranda frowned at him and looked away. "Why do you say that?"

"You just seemed close."

She pulled a face. "Not _that_ close. And not in that way."

"Then perhaps that Doctor isn't as genius as stories tell," Henry said with a smile.

"Why's that?"

Henry continued to smile. "Anyone would be a fool to not ask for the hand of such a fair creature."

She couldn't help but snort. "Fair creature?" she repeated incredulously. Messy haired, ill looking, and awkward. "Shut it."

"I'm serious, my dear," Henry protested, looking at her with a grin. "You may not see the beauty that is so obvious to others."

"Sure."

He ignored her sarcastic tone. "You are astounding, Miranda. More than any human I've met before, my mother aside, of course," he laughed.

"Your mother was human?" she asked, surprised.

"Oh yes," Henry confirmed. "I might not look it but I'm half human."

Miranda looked at him, wide eyed. "I… never would have guessed."

He nodded. "Not many have. The only real difference is my senses aren't what they could be. I age slower than Cat-kind as well, just by a few years. Oh, and I prefer my meat _cooked_! Ha ha!"

Miranda smiled at him as he laughed. He was nice enough, completely blind, but nice. They continued through the twisted tunnels, careful to be on alert for the creatures. Henry had told her that they were some ways ahead, so far that he barely could hear them moving. She stopped, placing a hand on the cold rocky wall to steady her. A soft rustling reached her ears, slowly building into a loud swishing and scraping.

"Something's coming!" she hissed, pressing herself closer to the wall to avoid being seen.

Henry looked around. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, can't you hear it?" she whispered, looking down the tunnel then at the other end. The sound was growing louder, it was coming closer.

"I don't hear anything, Miranda," Henry said in a worried tone. "There's nothing coming."

Miranda looked at him fearfully. "What? How can you not hear it?" Her voice was strained and shaky. "It's right on us! It's all around us!"

Henry held up his hands, trying to still the frantic woman. "Miranda, you must calm down. There's nothing here."

Back against the wall, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh God, its here," she moaned. "It's back. It followed me!"

"Miranda, please keep your voice down," Henry whispered. "You'll bring the whole cave of creatures on us."

The rumble and roar of the unseen closed in around her. She expected to be in a hurricane with winds whipping her face and hair but the fog in the air was still. "How can't you hear it?" she cried. She pressed her hands over her ears, trying to mute out the horribly frightening sound. The noise of thundering sheets in the wind encompassed her, taunting her.

"Why can't you hear it?" she hissed, "And why can I?"

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, pounding on her ribcage. Her pulse was booming in her ears.

* * *

><p>Back on the surface of Bram, the Doctor and Frau Clovis continued towards the control tower. The streets were empty but the Doctor knew better than to believe they were alone. They were being watched, stalked, hunted… Five blocks seemed like no distance to cover but the pair had to be cautious, always looking over their shoulders.<p>

The Doctor whipped around suddenly, his eyes searching the area.

"What?" asked Clovis, following his gaze. "What is it?"

He paused. "They're about to attack," he said calmly.

Clovis looked around quickly. "Do you see them?"

"No."

"Then how can you be sure?"

The Doctor looked at the anxious woman. "There are only two of us, defenseless in the middle of their territory. How long would _you_ wait?"

Clovis hid her fear with a stern face. "What do we do?"

"We get indoors," he said after a moment, eyes locking onto the nearest building.

He sonicked it open and the two waited for something to happen inside. The front doors were made of a frosted glass, allowing them some vision to see outside. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Frau Clovis was beginning to wonder if the Doctor was mistaken but he stood rooted to the spot. Then something moved. In the thick fog rose a figure, hunched and white, as if it was suddenly born from the ground.

"Oh, what are you, you little beauty?" the Doctor whispered, peering through the frosted doors.

"Doctor," Clovis warned as he stepped closer to the creature.

He held a hand back to show her it was okay. His eyes scanned the blurred image of the creature as it stepped closer to the door, it surveying him as well. Its red eyes were distinct, as well as a pair of large pointed ears. They studied each other for a moment.

"You can't be what I think you are," he said softly. "You're too far from home to have made it this far and in these conditions…"

Clovis looked uneasily at the red eyed creature. "Well, what is it?" she snapped.

"I think… It's a Stokerian," he answered.

"A _what_?"

The Doctor blinked out of his trance, glancing at Clovis. "A Stokerian," he repeated. "A nocturnal creature from the Planet Stoker, normally docile and relatively harmless. We should be alright in here."

"I'd hardly call these _things_ docile!"

"It must be a sub-species," he concluded. "Minor differences as far as I can tell. Eye color, behavior-"

The Stokerian hissed throwing its head back then spit a glob of clear liquid at the door. It sizzled on contact with the glass, causing to it to smoke and slowly melt.

"And _that_," the Doctor added, backing up. "Uhh, run!"

The pair dashed towards the lift, crashing into the wall before they could slow their momentum. The Doctor repeatedly hit the open button and sonicked it. The lift was too slow for his liking as he heard the door shatter and the Stokerian clamber through with what sounded like company.

"The stairs," he shouted, grabbing Clovis' cold hand and pulling her along.

"I can't believe this is happening!" Clovis cried, trying to keep her heels intact. "The Duke of Manhattan-"

"Yes, yes! The Duke of Manhattan!" the Doctor yelled as they ran up the staircase. "Come _on_!"

They stopped at the fourth floor of seventy two while the Clovis tried to recover her composure and the Doctor thought of their next move. The large room was filled with rows of walls, each containing a numerous amount of Decomp Caskets. With the Stokerians below them, there was nowhere to go but up and once there, there was nowhere _else_ to go. There had to be _something_.

"I thought I'd be out of breath," he heard Clovis say quietly. She looked at the Doctor with fear in her eyes. "I'm not breathing at all... There's no point in my going on, is there?"

The Doctor stepped up and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Don't you give up now, Frau Clovis… What would the Duke say?"

She blinked and her standard no nonsense expression returned as if the Doctor had said the magic word. Clovis straightened her glasses then replied coolly, "The Duke of Manhattan would say that we must persevere… or perish."

The Doctor gave a small smile. "Well, I've never been very good at perishing so that only leaves us one option, doesn't it?"

Clovis sniffed. "I suppose it does," she said curtly. "Although, I can't help but- Ah!" She suddenly clutched the sides of her head.

"What is it?" the Doctor asked, worried.

She shook her head, rubbing her temples. "Just a headache," she replied. "It's nothing."

The Doctor stared at her, thinking. "Right… Nothing." He glanced at the stairwell where they came. Sounds of claws on the hard floor could be heard, growing steadily louder with the occasional hiss or snort.

"Time to go." The Doctor led Clovis further into the room, where they hid behind a wall of the dead. The Stokerians entered the room. The Doctor could hear their breathing and the clicking of their claws on the ground. They weren't moving much, only taking a few steps into the room.

The Doctor furrowed his brow. "Why are they waiting...? Why haven't they found us yet?"

"Are you actually _disappointed_?" Clovis frowned, looking at the Time Lord as if he were nutty.

"Just curious," he whispered. "What are they doing?"

He moved closer to the edge of the wall Clovis grabbed his arm to stop him. "Are you insane?"

"I just need to see," he said, turning from her. The Doctor edged around the corner, poking his head out. Near the doorway stood three Stokerians, looking about confused. One spotted him and shrieked, causing him to duck back.

Clovis muttered under her breath, ready to run but he stopped her. "Wait, wait," he ordered, stilling her. None of the Stokerians were coming after them. But why? Intrigued, he stuck his hand out from behind the wall. Soon after, the Stokerians let out a screech along with a few rushed steps. The Doctor took his hand back and they stopped. He raised a brow, his mind whirring. With a thought, he grabbed Clovis' arm.

"What are you doing?" she protested.

"Testing a theory," he replied, sticking her arm out from behind the wall.

There was no reaction.

They looked at each other. The Doctor traded out her arm for his. Growls of fury. Then hers again. Nothing. The Doctor pressed his back against the wall for support, eyes wide as he thought to himself.

"Body heat," he breathed.

"What?"

He looked at Clovis. "They're originally nocturnal- they're nearly blind with all this light. They hunt by tracking heat signatures. That's why they respond to me and not you."

"Couldn't they have seen me moving though?"

"Stokerians are naturally cold blooded- literally, cold blooded. They must see you as their own and not a threat."

"Alright... Well, how do we get out of here?"

"_You_ could walk right by them probably."

"_Probably_?"

"Probably," he reinstated. "But not me… Clovis, keep a watch, will you?"

The Doctor knelt beside the wall, fiddling with a small door that housed a Decomp Casket. "What are you doing?" Clovis asked, eying him strangely. "That is someone's resting place!"

He pulled the casket from its spot in the wall and examined it. "It'll be _my_ resting place too if I don't act quickly. The Stokerians aren't that thick to wait around all day. What are they doing?"

Clovis peeked around the corner "Just… looking around, really."

"Okay, maybe they _are_."

There was a whiny noise then a metal thud. She turned around to see the Doctor take the lid of the casket. Clovis gaped. "I can't… how does this help?"

"Just watch," he said with a grin, picking the lid up so that it stood upright like a door. With it in front of him, he able to see through the face window, the Doctor stepped out from behind the wall. He waited as the Stokerians looked at him briefly.

Clovis stepped up behind him cautiously. "It's working. They can't see you," Clovis said surprised. "How did you know?"

"I didn't," he smiled. "It was just the first thing to cross my mind."

The pair edged around the confused Stokerians, careful to keep the lid between them and the creatures. With some luck and a casket door, the Doctor and Frau Clovis made it back to the first floor landing.

"Better hang onto this," he said, still carrying the cumbersome lid. "It's still some way to the tower."

The Doctor hung back for a moment, looking off into the empty streets behind him. His eyes searched for an unseen target, a person. His brows creased in concern. With a moment longer of hesitation, the Doctor turned back to the task at hand yet, still, couldn't stop his mind from straying.

* * *

><p>"Miranda?"<p>

The silence crashed upon Miranda like a cold wave, leaving her breathless and dizzy. A dull ringing pierced her ears as she readjusted to normal. She felt ready to pass out from hyperventilating. Her eyes darted to and fro in the darkness, searching for anything out of place.

"Are you alright, dear?" Henry asked, looking about ready to catch her should she fall.

She nodded slowly. "I'm… fine."

Henry visibly relaxed. "Could've fooled me," he frowned. "What _was_ that?"

Miranda looked him in the eye and answered honestly. "I have no idea."

There was a shriek behind them, high pitched and rattling. "Now _that_ I hear!" Henry exclaimed, backing away from the source.

"This is all my fault," Miranda growled, angry at herself.

"Aye," Henry agreed. "I imagine it is but this is no time to be hard on yourself."

A pair of red glowing eyes appeared in the darkness, leering at them, and then more pairs. Henry openly hissed at them, hoping to scare them off. There was no such luck as the creatures came closer. Miranda could now see the pale color of their bodies as they approached.

"Run, Miranda," Henry ordered, eyes fixed on the creatures.

"We're in this together," she told him.

"Aye, we are! But you get a head start. I'll hold them off as long as I can." Henry stood in front of her and held up his hands, his claws extending. Miranda stared at him nervously, unwilling to leave him alone.

"I'll be right behind you," he assured her.

One of the creatures shrieked and spat at them, missing Henry by centimeters. Its saliva bubbled and smoked, eating away at the wall where it landed.

"Go now, Miranda!" Henry shouted. "Run!"

With only a second's hesitation, Miranda turned around and sprinted away. She ran blindly through the maze of tunnels, hoping she didn't run into any creatures and also that Henry would find her alright.

Henry's howls and the creatures' shrieks echoed down the corridor. Miranda turned on the spot, eyes blindly searching.

"Henry?" she called. The shouts and cries continued. "Henry!"

Her own voice traveled down the tunnel before becoming lost in the labyrinth. She waited for a moment, afraid of running any further. "Keep going!" came Henry distant reply.

Miranda listened to him, despite her uncertainty. He was alive. He was going to be fine, she assured herself.

Suddenly, Miranda yelped as the floor rushed up to meet her.

The air flew from her lungs as she smacked into the ground. She had tripped over something, she realized. Her palms were scraped but she was otherwise unharmed. But what had she…?

A low growl filled her ears, much closer than she would have liked. Heart in her throat, Miranda rolled onto her back to look at what had tripped her. There, just a few feet from where she lay was a pair of glowing red eyes. She scuttled backwards into a tunnel wall, not taking her eyes off it. The creature moved forward, quite low to the ground, as if it were crawling. As it came closer, Miranda could see it better, not that she wanted to.

Its body was a muted white, dirty and scarred in places, with large bat-like ears and bony hunched shoulders. The creature's face was terrifying and ugly. Its nose was upturned and squished above a row of yellow pointed teeth but its eyes were the most unnerving. Two beady orbs set beneath a heavy brow, deep red and shining in the dark and it's gaze was fixed on her.

Miranda gulped. "Shit."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen: Population Zero

"Shit!"

The second time the curse left Miranda's lips, it echoed down the tunnel, momentarily drowning out the creature's growls. Miranda sprang to her feet and turned to run but stopped at seeing the creature fully. It hadn't moved from its place on the ground and from her standing position, it was clear why. The whole lower half of the Stokerian was missing, some of its ribs and entrails visible.

Miranda took a step away, gaping at the creature as it lay before her. Its eyes remained on her as it reached out a pale hand, its claws making trails as they dragged in the dirt. For a moment, she thought it may be a gesture for help but then the creature let out a low growl, baring its fangs. Clear acid bubbled past its yellow teeth, sizzling as it made contact with its lips which peeled and blistered.

Putting a hand on the rocky wall to steady herself, Miranda furrowed her brow. "It must be the fog," she murmured. "The Anti-Decomp is keeping it alive too."

There was another guttural growl which Miranda realized wasn't coming from the injured Stokerian. She took off, away from the noise, at a moderate pace. Her eyes were scanning the ground for obstacles. The last thing she needed was to get tripped up again. With the Stokerians in pursuit, or at least heading her way for she noticed they didn't seem to be in a rush, Miranda pushed forward.

The winding tunnels twisted and diverged into many paths, none of which Miranda gave much thought. To be honest, she didn't have a plan aside from 'don't die and find everyone else'. If luck wasn't on her side then she'd undoubtedly be screwed but at the moment, she didn't waste time thinking on it.

Miranda found herself on an incline which was becoming steeper with every step. It soon grew difficult to keep from stumbling as the rocks beneath her feet came loose, tumbling down the tunnel ahead of her. With one misplaced step, Miranda slid and landed heavily on her knees. She flailed her arms to grab onto anything to prevent her from toppling the rest of the way and latched onto a hold in the wall. She paused, trying to listen for sounds of the Stokerians or Henry. Small stones rolled to the end of the tunnel below her, making clicking sounds along the way. It was quiet above her and below.

Hesitantly, she stood, wiping her scraped hands on her jeans. She continued forward to where the tunnel leveled out and opened into a vast cavern. Miranda stopped at the sight and fought back a gag. In the center of the hollow room were corpses, hundreds, perhaps thousands of corpses piled on top of each other—Stokerians and humanoids alike. It seemed that the Duke of Manhattan wasn't the only person who'd been stolen from his grave. She glanced back at the tunnel and seeing that it would be no use trying to clamber back up, faced the bodies.

"Oh my god," she whispered as she walked closer.

Many of the corpses, like the half-gone Stokerian she had run into, were still moving. Miranda looked away from the carnage in disgust, searching for a way out. There, at the far end of the cavern, was another tunnel, leading away. She started for it but a particular moan drew her attention downward.

"Ibthar!" she gasped.

The technician lay by her feet, head resting on the body behind him and torso, half-shrouded in fog. Miranda crouched next to him, eying him with regret. The far off look in his eyes was enough to tell her that she was too late. There was no rise and fall of his chest but suddenly his shoulder twitched, once, twice.

"Hello? Ibthar, can you hear me?"

She slowly moved two fingers to his neck with the intention to take his pulse but flinched back at meeting his cold skin. Miranda pursed his lips tightly and looked away, mentally cursing. Her sad gaze trailed back to Ibthar and she reached out and closed his eyes. She stood and made her way over to the tunnel, hoping to find Henry and get out of this awful underground. Just as she entered the tunnel, the sound of cascading rocks met her ears. The breath stilled in her chest and her heart fluttered.

Miranda gulped, eyes scanning around the tunnel ahead of her. "Henry?" she said softly, already knowing it was not him. "He—"

Hissing filled the air and the noise of something being dragged. Miranda darted back into the room of corpses, frantically looking for some place to go. There was the incline from which she entered but knew it was too steep to try and climb. Her heart beat rapidly against her ribs as the hissing grew louder, nearer. Miranda's eyes found Ibthar's corpse, cold and unmoving, and wondered if she would end up like him—never finding rest after death.

* * *

><p>"Alright, here we are!" the Doctor announced as he and Frau Clovis stood outside the Control Tower.<p>

It was near ten stories tall, all glass and steel that reflected the white fog surrounding them. The Doctor lowered the heavy casket lid he had been using as a shield to the ground, hoping once inside there would be no need for it. He sonicked the front doors open and the pair rushed in.

"Were we followed?" Clovis asked, looking at the door suspiciously.

The Doctor glanced at her before answering. "No!" he exasperated. "Of course not! Definitely not… followed."

Clovis glared at him through her black glasses. "You're a poor liar."

He shrugged. "I'm only _sometimes_ glad for it. C'mon."

"How long do we have before they find us?" she asked as they walked.

"Depends," the Doctor replied. "Few hours. Few minutes. Can't really tell for sure. Let's hope for the former but expect the latter."

Clovis frowned but didn't say anything. She grimaced slightly as her legs started to lock up. "All this running around," she scoffed. "The Duke of Manhattan never made me run about like this. All of my duties could have been taken care of with a holo-call, at least."

The Doctor looked at her warily. "Maybe we should take the lift instead of the stairs."

"Oh, you think so?" Clovis snipped.

The Doctor ignored her terse comment and stepped into the elevator. He read off the levels and found one that caught his interest that read 'ADG Regulation and Population Supervision'_._ The Doctor pushed the button for that floor quickly, his feet tapping to suppress the need to run as the lift climbed.

"Let's see what we're up against, shall we?" he said aloud as they exited the lift.

"It's those… _Stookans_," Clovis supplied impatiently. "Those bat monsters!"

"Stokerians," the Doctor corrected, stepping up to a control panel. "And that's not what I meant."

With a few swift punches to seemingly random keys, the room came alive with lights and glowing buttons. "Bringing up the holo-screen," he stated, his fingers dancing over more buttons.

A green translucent hologram appeared before them, acting as a computer monitor and keyboard. A small box was in the center, a flashing cursor beneath the prompt:

_Administrative System Password Required For Access._

"_Great_," Clovis snorted. "_Now_ what?"

Undeterred, the Doctor entered a word on the holo-keys and hit enter. A new message appeared.

_Password Verified. Access Granted. Welcome to Bram Control Tower One._

Clovis looked shocked and mildly impressed. "How did you know?"

The Doctor grinned. "Since the dawn of technology, every default administrative password in every galaxy has always been set as 'ADMIN'."

"And if it _wasn't_ set to default?"

He blinked. "Well, then I'd do _this_."

The Doctor used his sonic and the holo-screen flickered as data and codes whipped by.

Clovis narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the words and numbers but they were gone too quickly. "What exactly are you doing?" she asked the Doctor.

"Cheating, sort of. Less impressive but much faster than manually keying it in. I'm activating the Moon Scan to see how many Stokerians are inhabiting Bram."

On the holo-screen was a green diagram of Bram and on it were many pinpricks of different colored lights, all with text under them so small it couldn't be read without leaning very far in. But the Doctor ignored all of that as he was still quite busy, alternating between sonicking and pushing holo-keys.

"The Moon Scan can distinguish between the living and the dead. It's programmed to recognize over one thousand different species, the Stokerians not among them, obviously," the Doctor explained. "We just have to tweak the search conditions to look for non-specific humanoids with no heat signatures."

"Wouldn't that include the dead?" Clovis inquired, watching the screen.

"It would," the Doctor replied with a slight smirk. "That's why I've asked it to zero in on those with _heartbeats_."

_Moon Scan complete. Results for Specified Parameters: 4,181,321,121. Breakdown: Unavailable._

"Oh my," gasped Clovis. "How could there be so many?"

"It's the Anti-Decomp," he answered. "The Stokerians have been breathing it since they were born. Not only is it preserving those who have died, it's keeping the aging Stokerians alive, thus the overpopulation."

The Doctor was silent, processing the repercussions behind the discovery. In a flash, he was typing again on the holo-keys.

"Initiating a new Moon Scan," he said before Clovis could ask.

"What for?"

"Heartbeats _with_ heat signatures."

The scan was near instantaneous when the results showed up.

_Moon Scan Compete. Results for Specified Parameters: 2. Breakdown: 50% Irregular heartbeat, 50% Elevated heartbeat._

"Two?" questioned Clovis. "There was a population of four when—"

"They've died," the Doctor stated, his voice hard. "The irregular heartbeat is mine… There's only one other person alive on Bram."

Clovis watched him carefully as he stared straight ahead. His jaw was clenched slightly and if it wasn't for the green glow of the holo-screen, she'd have sworn the Doctor looked a shade paler.

"D—Ahh!" Suddenly, Clovis screamed and fell to her knees, holding her head.

"Frau!" the Doctor rushed to her, grasping her shoulders lightly.

"Oh, my head," she moaned. "It's all pins and needles. What's happening?"

The Doctor looked at her sadly. "You're dying," he told her softly.

"What?" she snorted. "I'm already dead, aren't I? You said it yourself, the Anti-Decomp—ahh! Blast this headache!"

"It's not a headache, Frau," the Doctor said. "It's your brain shutting down…"

Clovis' expression froze then melted into a hot glare. "You knew, didn't you? This whole time."

The Doctor bent his head to hide his guilt. "This whole time," he conceded.

"So… what will become of me?" Clovis asked. "I'll just be this—this corpse stuck between life and death?"

"It would be like a coma almost. Only without sleep."

"A vegetable then?" Clovis pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is there nothing that can be done?" she asked tersely.

"Nothing that could bring you back to life," he said sadly. "I'm sorry."

Clovis looked up at him, grim acceptance settling over her as she willed the pain in her head away. "Is there a way I could… let go?"

The Doctor waited a moment. "We would need to shut down the Anti-Decomp," he said finally.

Clovis pushed her glasses up. "How?"

"We could do it from here," he said. "There's an emergency shut off lever, just _there_."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked.

"It's dangerous. Once that fog shuts off, Bram's surface will start decaying. A mass scale decomposition would be lethal to anyone on the moon."

"I'll do it by myself," Clovis told him.

He gave her an unsure look.

"Doctor, you go find that insufferable girl of yours and the others. The moon scan must've been wrong; I'm sure they're okay. You have transport, yes? Good. Just how long do I have before I… shut down, myself?"

"Forty minutes at best," the Doctor told her truthfully.

Clovis blinked a few times then nodded firmly. "I guess that's how long you have to find them."

"Are you sure about this, Frau?"

"There's no other way. Besides, the Duke of Manhattan wouldn't want this to go on. These creatures… these people need to be laid to rest _properly_," Clovis sniffed. "I've orchestrated the Duke of Manhattan's Finale of Rest and I shall do this one as well."

The Doctor smiled slightly. "Frau Clovis," he said, "The Duke of Manhattan would be proud."

Clovis nodded dismissively and shooed him away. "Go on then," she urged. "I'm sure she's fine. Find her, Doctor. Quickly."

With a nod farewell, the Doctor was gone.

* * *

><p>Miranda closed her eyes as the Stokerians entered the cavern.<p>

Holding her breath, she shifted the arm of the corpse above her as she wriggled further into the pile of dead bodies. She held back a gag, watching three of the pale creatures drag a very large, humanoid over to the pile. They plopped him down rather carefully which she thought was odd.

A loud sizzling noise sounded right by her ear. Miranda jumped and looked over to see what it was. Smoke arose from a few bodies down, part of someone's flesh was being melted off as Stokerian saliva dripped down from a corpse above her. She glared at it as some of the acid landed closer to her face. Very carefully, she used her foot to dislodge the dead Stokerian, causing it to roll further down the pile.

There were hisses of surprise from the living Stokerians in the room and Miranda shuffled back, making sure the dead body she held on top of her blocked the alien's view of her. She shut her eyes again, hoping the investigating creatures wouldn't find her. The cold from the lifeless corpses encased her, seeping into her own body. Every once in a while, one of them would move, or twitch, making Miranda shudder. These creatures and people were partly alive.

One of the Stokerians was climbing up the pile of corpses to where the creature Miranda had pushed lay. She took a quick peek and upon seeing it was no more than a few feet away, resisted shutting her eyes. All it had to do was look up. Slowly, she moved the dead person's arm in front of her face, hoping it was enough to block the Stokerian's sight of her. She was so cold.

What if she were alone on this moon? They had already gotten Ibthar but what of Henry? What of the Doctor?

What of the Doctor?

Miranda gritted her teeth. She wouldn't think of that. She couldn't.

But what if something _had_ happened to the Doctor? What would she do then? She could hope to find the TARDIS again—no, damn, she remembered him locking it. Would she have to find his dead body and nick the key from him? The thought made her sick. And then what? What chance had she of operating the TARDIS? Would she live out the rest of her days on this moon? Would it be better to just get it over with now? She shook her head. No, she wouldn't think of that.

By chance, or something else, the three Stokerians left the cavern the way they had come. Miranda waited until she could no longer hear their scuttling steps before heaving the body off of her and slipping down to the ground. She realized she was shaking badly.

With the upmost caution, she followed the Stokerians' path down the far tunnel. She pressed a hand to the rocky wall as she walked, steadying herself. A rock fell behind her and she whipped around, the white fog swirling around her. She squinted into the darkness and considered running. Footsteps. Just as she was about to run, a voice called out to her.

"Miranda?"

She sighed in relief. "Oh, Henry."

The Senator's dazzling, feline smile and white patch of fur on his noise appeared first from the darkness. "Are you hurt?" he asked, stepping up to her.

"No," she shook her head. "Just scared out of my wits, to be honest… I didn't think you'd find me."

"Thank the stars," Henry said. "I feared the same."

"I found Ibthar," she winced. "He's dead…"

"I know; I saw him too. Poor fellow," he nodded. "But we must keep moving. We must get you out of here."

"Get _us_ out of here, you mean," Miranda corrected, eying him suspiciously.

Henry nodded. "Yes. Quite right. Let's be off."

* * *

><p>The Doctor sped down the empty streets of Bram, kicking up tufts of fog as he went. He checked his wristwatch every so often—thirty minutes left, twenty-four minutes left, twenty-two minutes left. His sonic screwdriver in hand, he followed the path it led him on, having set it to dowse for the remaining heartbeat on Bram.<p>

_Beep… Beep… Beep… Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep!_

He was getting closer.

_Be-beep! Beep! Beep… _

No, _this_ direction!

_Be-beep! Be-beep! Be-beep!_

He was close! He was so close!

_BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep!_

The Doctor looked around, expecting to see someone right next to him. He saw no one and frowned, glanced back at the sonic.

_BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep!_

It didn't make sense. He had to be right on top on them.

_BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep!_

His eyes lit up. He had to be right on top of them!

"They're subterranean!" he shouted, smacking himself in the head. "Of course! Stupid, stupid! Oh! There must be an entrance… somewhere."

The Doctor started searching the ground, hunched over, waving away the layer of fog. He checked his watch—seventeen minutes left. He began waving his arms faster.

"Ah ha! Big gaping hole. This should be it…" he said gazing down into the blackness. He shrugged. "Never pass up the opportunity to say this… Geronimo." And he leapt down into the underground world of darkness, fog, and dead things.

* * *

><p>"I need to rest," Henry panted, leaning against the wall of a tunnel.<p>

Miranda looked at him, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. You go on ahead and I'll catch up."

She put her hands on her hips. "I don't think so. We're not getting split up again."

"Really, Miranda. It's better that you do."

"Well, tough," she growled. "We're leaving _together_."

Miranda grabbed him around the middle, in an attempt to help him stand, and froze. She pulled back slowly, her hands and forearms covered in a dark, wet substance. She didn't need light to know what it was; she was used to waking up in the dark with the feel of blood on her skin. Her eyes met Henry's who looked away, sadly.

"Henry?"

"I'm sorry, Miranda."

She shook her head.

"One of the cowards attacked me from behind. Nasty things."

"No, i-it can't be that bad," Miranda said, trying to see his back. "We could stop the bleeding."

Henry stopped her. "Please. There is no helping me. It is too late, I'm afraid."

"Fuck," she breathed, putting the back of her hand to her mouth. Tears threatened her eyes.

"If you continued down this tunnel, it should lead you to where we dropped in," Henry informed. "Climbing out would be difficult but possible."

"No! I told you I'm not leaving without you!"

"Miranda—"

"Henry!"

He sighed. "Fine…"

Miranda nodded and helped him stand, her arm draped across his back. She gulped, feeling his blood lap over her arm with each step. He was so cold. Fuck!

"You know… after all this was over, I planned on asking you out for a drink," smiled Henry. "There's a nice pub station about five stars south."

Mirada snorted. "You still can," she said quietly.

"I'm not so sure that they'll serve stiff drinks for stiffs," Henry laughed.

She glared at him. "That's not funny."

"Of course, that was insensitive even if it's at my expense."

Sighing, Miranda continued with him down the tunnel. "We should have both ran," she muttered but Henry shook his head.

"If we both ran, we'd both be dead," he stated. "I'm glad I could keep you safe."

"I should have been able to do that myself," she frowned.

"No, Miranda," Henry said, stopping. "Don't you dare blame yourself. I asked you to run. There's truly nothing you could have done to stop it."

She pursed her lips, unsatisfied but didn't press the matter. Henry's ear twitch and he looked further down the tunnel. "Someone's coming," he said.

Miranda's eyes followed his gaze, heart picking up speed. "I'll go see."

"Be careful."

She nodded and crept down the tunnel, glancing back at Henry who waited by the wall. So far, she didn't see or hear anything. Could he have been wrong? Miranda paused, and picked up a large rock from the ground. She held it in one hand, above her head, ready to strike if need be. Not too long, a fast beeping filled the tunnel and she stopped.

"The hell?" she whispered.

The beeping grew louder and despite her rising fear of the Stokerians, her curious rooted her to the spot. A figure appeared as well as a flashing green light. Her hear skipped a beat and the rock fell from her hands.

She meant to shout his name or smile but instead, Miranda flung herself at him, nearly knocking him over at the force of her embrace.

"Miranda!" he exclaimed.

His hand in her hair. The beeping noise stopped. But she wouldn't let go until she heard his heartbeat. Oh, thank god, she thought and for once, in so many years, she meant it. She pulled back just as he returned the hug and sighed.

The Doctor cupped her face in his hands, looking her over. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his eyes going to the blood on her forearms. "What happened?"

She shook her head as he examined her arms for injuries. "It's Henry's," she told him. "He… he was trying to protect me. And Ibthar, they got him too… Is it just us then?"

He nodded, checked his watch—twelve minutes left. "We have to get to the TARDIS," he said, leading her away but she stopped.

"No, Henry's still back there. He's still conscious. I can't leave him," she protested.

The Doctor paused and then nodded. The pair hurried down the tunnel and found the Senator sitting against the wall. Henry grinned at seeing them. "Ah, it was you, Doctor," he said. "Splendid."

"C'mon, let's get out of here," Miranda said, she and the Doctor helping Henry up.

The three of them navigated the tunnels, going on the Doctor's directions. "I passed a steep hill some way ahead," the Doctor told them. "It should be easier to climb then the way I came in."

Sure enough, the incline he had spoken of was less difficult to clamber out of than the vertical drop Miranda had been expecting. Once back above ground, Miranda felt the air change and she felt she could breathe better.

The Doctor checked his watch—six minutes left. "We have to get to the TARDIS—Clovis is going to shut down the Anti-Decomp in six minutes. It won't be safe to be on the moon."

"Then, I suppose this is good-bye," Henry said, turning to Miranda.

"What? Come with us!" she ordered, looking at him imploringly.

"It would do no good. Without the fog, I'm as good as dead."

Miranda looked at the Doctor. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

He said nothing but looked at her sadly, his silence conveying the answer.

"I think I've just enough left in me to reach the Control Tower," Henry said thoughtfully. "Keep Frau some company while we last."

Miranda sniffed and shook her head. "But what about that drink you promised?" she asked Henry, dejectedly.

Henry laughed. "Perhaps another time."

She snorted. "'Kay," she managed, chocking back a sob.

Henry grabbed her hand and licked it in a kiss-like manner. She gave a short laugh and looked away.

"You are beautiful, Miranda Cole," Senator Brannigan smiled. "And I am so glad to have met you."

Miranda returned his smile half-heartedly, not bothering to tell him that his eyesight must be going. She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek, his soft fur tickling her nose.

"You too, Henry."

"I know we're pressed for time," Henry began. "But might I have a word, Doctor?"

The Doctor nodded and told Miranda to start for the TARDIS. "It's some blocks _that_ way." She agreed and started off as the Doctor stood by the Senator.

"Thank you," the Doctor said, remembering the Senator's vow to protect her.

"There's no need. Now it's up to you to keep her safe," Henry said.

The Doctor eyes were unreadable as Henry continued. "There's something I must tell you, Doctor…"

* * *

><p>Miranda had been jogging slightly, when the Doctor reached her. He checked his watch just as a loud siren echoed across the moon and an automated voice rang out over the noise:<p>

"_Anti-Decomposition Process Terminated. Moon Scan Results For Life Sustaining Ability of Bram, The Finale of Rest: Insufficient. Please Proceed To The Nearest Emergency Center For Evacuation. Thank You And We Hope You Enjoyed Your Stay."_

They shared a look and took off running. The Doctor's hand found her and she hadn't the breath to protest. It was only then, that she noticed how bizarre the Doctor ran—a tangle of flailing limbs and awkward motions. It was a wonder how managed to stay upright.

Miranda saw the fog at their feet slowly dissipate. Roars and hisses hit them from all sides, rising over the wailing sirens. With the fog gone, they could see large holes scattered in the ground and from them poured Stokerians, alive, dead and dying.

With a yelp, Miranda was pulled left down another street. The TARDIS was in sight, no more than three blocks away. She looked over her shoulder to see a group of Stokerians chasing them.

"Doctor!" she shouted and he saw why she screamed.

His grip on her hand tightened and with a rush of speed, he practically dragged her onwards. Her grim imagination already saw them both killed, inches from the TARDIS's safety. But oddly, the thought didn't scare her as much as when she was alone in the caverns. She squeezed his fingers and felt his pulse racing through them. Or maybe it was her own. Or both of theirs.

* * *

><p>Frau Clovis braced herself against the wall of Control Tower One, watching the Moon Scan's Stokerian Population drop. She took what would have been a deep breath and fixed her glasses.<p>

The lift dinged open and Senator Brannigan rushed out. He smiled when he spotted her.

"Senator!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? You've got to get off Bram!"

Henry sat beside her. "I'm afriad it's too late for me, dear."

She frowned at him and nodded. Their shoulders touched as they watched the Moon Scan for the Living.

_Population: 2._

"Some finale, eh?" Henry asked with a laugh.

Clovis snorted. "Some finale," she agreed.

The holo-monitor suddenly changed. It read:

_Population: 0._

"Oh, ho! Look at that!" Henry exclaimed.

"Do you think they made it?" Clovis asked.

Henry smiled. "Absolutely," he said, and then added in a whisper. "Farewell, Miranda Cole."

* * *

><p>The Doctor didn't bother fiddling with the key and snapped the fingers of his free hand. The TARDIS doors swung open, the warm interior beckoning them. As soon as they were inside, the Doctor ran to the console, going at the controls like mad. Miranda shut and bolted the doors and stood, rather shell shocked, holding the rail for support.<p>

The familiar grinding sound of the central pillar drowned out the sirens of Bram until they were no longer audible. There was a deep thump as the TARDIS finished dematerializing and let out a long sigh.

The Doctor watched Miranda as she joined him on the platform. She looked tired.

"How are you?" he asked gently.

She took a moment to respond. "Alive."

They were both silent as she looked at the blood on her hands and he looked at her. "I think I'm going to go," she told him.

"Okay."

The sadness in his voice made her head snap up. "To my room," she clarified and he nodded quickly.

"Right, okay."

He watched Miranda leave, still staring blankly at her hands. The Doctor's thoughts churned, turning back to Senator Brannigan's last words to him.

"There's something I must tell you, Doctor…" the Senator had said to him. "Something happened back in the tunnels, something happened to Miranda… She started hearing things, something awful by the way she reacted—screaming and going on about something following her. That woman's seen so much pain… I can tell. Never let her go, Doctor. Not for one moment."

The Doctor turn to the blank, hanging monitor in thought then gazed down the hall to Miranda's room. His brows furrowed. "What are these mysteries that surround you, Miranda Cole?" the Doctor murmured aloud. "When can I help you?"

* * *

><p>AN: Well, hell, thanks for everyone who has reviewed and supported this story. Seriously every little thing helps.<p>

Random fact: The Stokerian population spells out "Dracula" (D=4, ect.) Get it Bram Stoker? :D

So I'm considering rewriting part of ALN so that it fits in with canon (ie: how the Ponds left). I'm anal like that. So this story would take place, after the Ponds but before Clara. It's going to fit in somehow.

Anyway, let me know what you thought of this chapter or any aspect of the story so far. Although, I know where it's heading, I'm open to suggestions and such.

Thanks again for being patient.

Oh and if you're interested in X-men, there's a good story by MoonChild2308 called "Solace From Sin". We've been brainstorming about it and it's worth checking out.

Cheers!


	17. Chapter 17

**AN:Your eyes are not mistaken! This _is_ the quickest I've updated!  
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**Thanks to those of you who reviewed last chapter! It really meant a lot! And to all those silent readers, I hope you liked it—Don't be shy in the future! **

**I can't even tell if my writing's up to par. I mean, seriously, was there a change or is that just me? Shrug. I switch up styles so much, I've no clue. XD**

**Cheers all! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Seventeen: Those Who Wander<p>

Rivets of blood streaked down the sink and swirled into the drain. With shaking hands, Miranda scrubbed the blood from her arms—the blood of her friend whom she had met and lost in a single day. She didn't want to picture him dead, unmoving and cold—dead on that moon without even a tomb, rotting without monsters. But he was. Henry.

Fuck.

She couldn't think of him without cringing, without the overwhelming feeling of guilt tearing at her chest. She couldn't picture his face or recall his voice without her throat closing up and eyes watering. He died trying to protect her, a complete stranger. Was she even worth it? Worth him? Henry.

Fuck.

Miranda shut off the faucet and braced herself against the sink. She felt ill enough to throw up again. Her head stayed down; she couldn't bare the sight of her reflection at the moment. She gave a dry laugh. At the moment?

"Don't," she warned herself. "Don't start this. Not now."

Once the self-loathing started, there would be no stop. She took a deep breath and held it.

She rinsed away the last of his blood, letting the water carry it out of sight. She pretended it was her own—at least, that was a sight she was used to.

The toilet suddenly was pulled into the floor and from the wall slid a new one of a square design. Miranda glared and silently cursed the TARDIS, hoping it could hear her. The TARDIS, apparently, thought it was funny to keep switching out bathrooms on her. Not once had she walked into the same one twice. It wasn't that bad aside from the time when she walked in and the room had been completely empty, save for a mop. Nasty sense of humor, this one.

The shower sputtered on and Miranda quickly undressed. She avoided her reflection more than ever and rushed into the glass stall. Miranda tilted her face into the stream of water, enjoying the sensation and shutting her eyes. She took a step forward, letting the water cascade over her head. The hot water rushed past her ears, obscuring her hearing with a dull roar like rumbles of thunder. She stayed like that for a moment, not yet bothered by the breath held in her lungs. There was another sound that reached her ears, something other than the rush of water. It sounded like words. Miranda quickly pulled out of the stream of water, wiping at her eyes.

"Hello?" she called, looking through the fogged stall door. "Doctor?"

A strand of hair fell into her face but she ignored it. Hesitantly, she cleared part of the shower door with a hand so she could see better. The bathroom was empty. In a smaller voice, she called, "Henry…?"

The shower sounded like rain.

Miranda shook her head. She didn't think she believed in spirits, at least none that would want to see her.

"I must be… imagining things."

* * *

><p>The Doctor was worried about her more than usual. She had taken the loss of Senator Brannigan harder than he had imagined; spending the rest of the day in her room. Apart from being inconsolable, and perhaps even more frustratingly so, she remained stoic and insisted that she was fine. He wouldn't pretend that he expected her to be close with him. Despite the progress they had made since their initial meeting, it seemed she was far from confiding in him. He didn't blame her.<p>

But still, he had to be there if she ever did need him.

"Miranda," the Doctor called, tapping on her door which was now on the floor instead of the ceiling. "I've brought some board games! If you like chess, you'll go bonkers for space chess!"

He opened the door and bent down to look inside. "Miranda?"

As it happened, she was not in her room which was somewhat of a relief. Space chess put aside, the Doctor wandered the TARDIS, looking for his companion. It was odd thinking of her like that, he realized.

His companion.

His _companion_.

_His_ companion.

The Doctor finally found her, with some help from the TARDIS, of course, in one of the many simulation rooms. It was currently modeled after the Coliseum, complete with a roaring crowd and a well-armed gladiator. He felt a pang of guilt at the sight of a centurion but was quickly pulled from it as the simulation-warrior charged at Miranda.

"Whoa! Uh, pause!" he shouted, just before the gladiator could bring his sword down on Miranda.

She glared at him from across the room. "What are you doing?" she growled.

"I could ask the same thing," the Doctor gaped, striding closer to her.

Miranda's hair was in a high ponytail, swaying as she shook her head, annoyed. She wore a black tank top and yoga pants. Her bare arms drew his attention; it was an odd to see her in anything but long sleeves. Once beside her, he could see the scars on her wrists. She crossed her arms quickly and glared.

"I'm fighting, what does it look like?" she spat, turning back to her frozen opponent. "Engage."

The gladiator's blow missed by inches as Miranda sprung out of the way. She pivoted on the spot and kicked the warrior's sword from his hand. The crowd cheered loudly and Miranda snarled, landing another kick to the gladiator's chest. His armor protected him but was pushed back a few feet. With a cry of anger, he lurched forward and—

"Pause!" the Doctor cried. "Miranda, the safeties aren't on! You could get seriously hurt!"

"Not as hurt as Henry."

Of course. "Miranda—"

"Save it, will you? I told you I'm fine!"

"You can't expect me to let you get pummeled because you're in denial!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Miranda's eyebrow twitched. "I'm not in denial, first of all," she hissed. "And I'm not being _pummeled_! I've been through the interactive lessons for kickboxing, karate, tae kwon do, and 27th century death-prancercising. I _think_ I can handle a level nine simulation! Engage!"

The gladiator lurched forward and connected with Miranda, sending them both to the ground. The weight of his armor forced the air from her lungs and she struggled to push him off.

"Pause!"

"Engage!"

She ripped his helmet off by the crest of red horse hair and drive it into the side of his head. The whole Coliseum roared and jeered. Miranda righted herself and went to strike the stunned gladiator again.

"Terminate simulation."

The helmet in Miranda's hand digitized, disintegrating instantaneously along with her opponent. The entire arena collapsed around them until they were both standing in a plain white room.

Miranda leered at him, panting heavily. "What was that for?" she demanded, her fists balling.

"This won't bring him back," the Doctor told her softly.

She looked angry for another moment before her shoulders dropped. "Don't you think I know that?" she asked, her throat tight. "Don't you think I'm _painfully_ aware of that?"

The Doctor was silent.

Miranda sighed angrily and continued. "It's not about bringing him back… It's about _me_," she growled. "It's always _me_! I've always been weak or at someone else's mercy, o-or depending on someone else to save me! And I _hate_ it! I hate being this weak and pathetic!"

She was physically shaking, nearly hyperventilating but she wouldn't allow herself to cry. Not in front of him. Not again.

"You're not weak, Miranda," the Doctor said firmly. "You're anything but."

"Am I?" she questioned fiercely, staring him dead in the eyes, desperately wanting to believe him. "Am I, really?"

Miranda turned her back to him as twin tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away. "If it weren't for you, I'd still be with _him_. If it weren't for you, I'd have given up and jumped off that damned roof… And if it weren't for Henry…"

She trailed off and faced the Doctor again. "If it weren't for _me_, he'd still be alive."

Miranda drew in a trembling breath and squared her jaw. "No one else is going to die for me, because I was too frail and afraid to do anything but run and cower. No one else," she vowed. "From now on, I'm going to fight. I'm never going to settle for being a victim or a damsel in distress. I'm never going to be settle for being weak."

The Doctor closed the distance between them, looking at Miranda with a small smile. "Miranda Cole, how could you _ever_ think you're weak?" he asked her, placing a hand on the back of her head.

She shut her eyes, allowing him to kiss her forehead and embrace her which, to be honest, was more contact then she'd have liked but ignored it, easing into his arms. Don't cry, you fucker, she ordered herself. Not in front of him. Not again. His hand ran over her hair and a shiver shot up her spine. But it wasn't a pleasant feeling. In fact, it seemed wrong. Very wrong.

"_So much pain."_

Miranda broke the hug quickly. "What did you say?"

The Doctor looked at her oddly. "Nothing."

"No, you said something," she argued. "I heard it."

"Miranda, I didn't say anything," the Doctor said seriously.

She tilted her head to the side in disbelief and glanced behind her. Something behind her. Something behind. But no one was there. Someone said something. She had heard it.

"Miranda?"

"I'm going to bed," she said quickly, heading to the door.

"Miranda!" the Doctor called out but she shook her head, frantically.

"Please! I'm very tired," she shouted, sprinting from the simulation room. "Good night!"

* * *

><p>In an empty corridor, Miranda collapsed against the wall, hugging herself tightly. Her eyes wide with terror, she glanced around. She put a hand to cover her mouth and she whispered to herself.<p>

"I'm not crazy… I'm not crazy… I'm not. Oh god," she sobbed. "I can't be crazy."

Miranda slunk down the wall until she was on her knees, her whole body wrenching with silent tears. Oh, don't let the Doctor find me, she implored. And she wondered if the TARDIS could see or hear her.

She didn't cry for long—the fear of the Doctor stumbling across her was too great. Miranda lifted her head from her arms, her tears going cool on her cheeks. Slowly and bracing herself on the wall, she stood, unmoving for a moment until she was sure of her feet.

Slightly dazed, Miranda found her way back to her room. The door of which was now stationed normally against the wall; the TARDIS seemed to be giving her a break. She sniffed and muttered a quiet 'thanks'. Miranda splashed her face with cold water, trying to lessen the puffiness of her eyes and relieve some of the stinging.

Oh, she knew this feeling. She knew when she was slipping into a depression. This wasn't good but at the moment, she couldn't be bothered to stop it. The need to feel and think nothing was incredible yet she was unable to find her apathy. Instead, she carried the gaping hole in her chest until exhaustion would claim her.

She ended up in a long nightgown that had appeared in her wardrobe. It was plain but pretty—cream colored silk that reached her ankles and a delicate lace around the bell sleeves. Miranda thought it looked like it was from an old horror movie.

"How appropriate," she muttered dryly, climbing into her hammock.

Face down in the blankets, she kept her eyes closed. She felt heavy and fatigued beyond belief. All she wanted was to drift off… To drift off to sleep… To sleep and dream her worries away… The sensation of falling came over her and she bolted up.

No. She couldn't dream.

Miranda sat up and put a hand to her head. No, she couldn't face him—whether it was a memory or some new terror. No, not now, not tonight. She swung her legs over the side of the hammock and leaned forward, her head in her hands. Oh, she was so tired. But she wouldn't trust herself to sleep.

She willed herself out of bed and paced her room several times, watching the reflection of the stars under her feet. But the darkness of the room was too comforting, too inviting for slumber. Miranda needed her routine but she could hardly consider asking the Doctor to park the TARDIS so she could jog to Chiswick and back. Instead of running the corridors, she opted to amble aimlessly with the hope that the strange spaceship would occupy her mind.

She felt self-conscious, walking about in a nightgown but shrugged it off. At least it covered most of her. Her fingers toyed with the ends of her sleeves as she walked. Miranda's bare feet padded against the warm metal grill, carrying her whichever way the corridors twisted. She was unsure of how long she had been wandering but figured it to be at least an hour or so. It had also been some time since she had seen a window or entrance to another room or hall and was beginning to think she was being led in circles.

There was a low groan from the TARDIS just as Miranda turned the corner and suddenly found a door before her. It was wooden and gleaming white and looked very out of place. She raised a brow and glanced around.

"Where are you taking me?" she whispered to the living ship.

Curious, and with nothing else to do, Miranda opened the door with a push for there was no knob. It led to narrow hall with blue and peach colored wallpaper and a thick shag carpet, another wooden door at the other end. Feeling even more curious, she crossed the distance and stepped inside, expecting to walk into an old lady's home but found the next room very different.

A slight smirk crept onto Miranda's features. "How'd you know I spend my restless nights here?" she asked the TARDIS. "Oh, right… You're in my head, aren't you? It must be god awful… Sorry."

The TARDIS kitchen was massive—a huge room that looked as if it had at least ten kitchens crammed into it. There were five different floor patterns that she could see: one checkered, two floral, one with light-colored wood panels and one with celery. From the doorway, she could spot several ovens and dishwashers of various styles and eras, a load of what she thought to be microwaves, cabinets stacked upon each other against the walls, islands of sinks and drawers, a dozen refrigerators in a row, all of different shapes, a rack of kitchen appliances, and many tables, booths, stools and mismatched armchairs scattered about. The ceiling held many different fans, each revolving slowly, a number of hanging lights and chandeliers, and one spot, directly over an stove, had dozens of sunny-side-up eggs, each looking fresh and in no threat of falling.

Feeling a bit intimidated, Miranda bit her lip. "Could you..er… tell me or show me where the tea is kept?" she asked meekly.

In response, a cabinet opened and an incredibly long rack extended holding hundreds of tins and boxes. Miranda mentally thanked the TARDIS whom she now decided was a pretty decent lady despite the bathroom pranks.

"I could seriously get used to this," she murmured to herself.

One kettle of boiling water and a ceramic mug later, Miranda sat in one of the wooden chairs at a one legged table. She set her half-finished mug of tea on the table, keeping her hands around it, enjoying its warmth.

"Oh, hello!" came a cheerful voice.

Miranda turned to see the Doctor enter, in his usual attire save for his lack of tweed.

"Hi," she returned lamely, cursing her nightgown.

"Didn't expect to see you here," the Doctor said, walking over to her.

"Ever hear of a midnight snack?"

"Well, yes, but that's normally done around midnight. Right now, it's about the earth equivalent of four in the morning."

"So?"

"So?" he repeated, plopping into the chair across from her. "Last time I checked, humans weren't nocturnal."

Miranda frowned. "I couldn't sleep," she said offhandedly. "Besides I could say the same for you."

"I'm an early riser," the Doctor replied coolly.

"Four in the morning?"

"Yeah, really early riser. But you," he paused. "You said you couldn't sleep. Normally people who can't sleep just lay in bed and count trufflapods."

"Don't you mean _sheep_?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Fluffy animal, doesn't matter. You said you couldn't sleep which implies that you _tried_ to sleep."

"I did," she said hotly.

"You didn't though."

She glared at him, feeling her blood pressure raise. "And how would you know?"

"You sleep on your side," he told her. "There should be an impression of the lacey part of your nighty on your face. Also, your hair's normally a mess when you get up—flat on your right side and all sticky uppy on the other."

Miranda opened and closed her mouth a few times. Exactly how closely did he study her appearance? She suddenly felt very uncomfortable under his gaze and grew rather annoyed at him.

"What's your point?" she growled, gripping the mug a little tighter.

"My point is that you're trying very hard to stay awake," he said quietly.

She snorted. "I'm not."

The Doctor leaned back in his chair. "But you are. You're drinking caffeinated tea—"

"Really? I didn't notice."

"And you're sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair surrounded by loads of squishy armchairs."

"Maybe, I like this chair," Miranda challenged.

He sighed and ran a hand through his fringe in frustration. "Miranda, I know you haven't been sleeping," he told her firmly. "You've been having nightmares."

She refused to meet his eyes.

"Henry told me what happened in the tunnels, how you were hearing things. Like what happened in the simulation room."

Miranda turned her head away and the Doctor sighed. "Since we left Bybilis, it's been getting worse, hasn't it?" he asked. When she didn't respond, he grabbed her hand which she promptly pulled from his grasp.

"I want to help you, Miranda!" the Doctor said in a raised voice. "I've always wanted to help you. Don't you know that?"

"Yes," she said in a small voice.

"Then why won't you trust me?"

His sad tone hit Miranda and she finally looked at him. "It's not that," she mumbled. "I'm just… What if you _can't_ help me?" Her voice shook, all of her fears surfacing. "What if I belong back in that nuthouse?"

"You belong _here_, Miranda," he stated, not missing a beat. "Right here and nowhere else."

Miranda let out a shuddering breath, not allowing herself to cry. Tentatively, she slid a trembling hand onto the table to grab his and then the other. The Doctor returned the gesture wholeheartedly, his large hands taking hers just as he had done in Bybilis.

"W-with you?" she found herself asking.

The Doctor smiled and squeezed her hands. "With me," he assured. "I'll do everything I can to help you."

"And if you can't?" she whispered.

He pressed his lips to her knuckles, holding her gaze. "We'll find a way," he promised and gently kissed her other hand.

She believed him and lowered her eyes to their entangled fingers, her face heating up. Miranda carefully extracted her hands and hid them under the table. Just then, she realized how much kissing and touching had been going on and she wondered if he was so… _hands on_ with everyone.

The Doctor cleared his throat awkwardly, sensing her unease. "Well, since we both aren't _sleeping_, I'm sure we could find some other nocturnal activities to do."

Miranda almost choked on her tea. "WHAT?"

He looked at her, alarmed. "What?" he asked, and then grimaced, jumping out of his seat. "No! Oh! Ew! _Really_, Miranda?"

"_You_ said it!"

"I didn't say _that_!"

She stood up as well, crossing her arms over her chest. "You only implied it then," she accused.

The Doctor looked at her, aghast. "I didn't imply anything! You've just got a- a dirty mind!"

"Oh, well what 'nocturnal activities' were you talking about then?" she demanded.

"Stargazing!"

Miranda blinked. "Oh!" she said, still sounding angry. "Right! Well… that, er, sounds… fine!"

"Okay!"

"_Okay_."

"Good."

"Yeah…"

They stood there for a moment. not looking at each other. Miranda coughed. "_Sorry_."

"No, it's alright… honest mistake," the Doctor said. "However unlikely."

Miranda raised her brows. "_Unlikely_?"

The Doctor nervously straightened his bow tie. "No, I didn't mean—well, you know what I mean!" he stammered. "Uh… observatory's this way!"

* * *

><p>The observatory was a large room yet relatively modest compared some of the bigger rooms in the TARDIS. It was taller than it was wide and dominated by a colossal, bronze telescope that sat on a circular platform. The top half of the observatory was glass and, like her room, allowed for a scenic view of the starscape. It was quite dark in the room, save for a few candles that hung within balled cages. Miranda thought it odd, to have such an archaic form of lighting in the TARDIS but somehow, it fit with the steampunkish feel of the room. If she kept her back to the arched entryway, she'd have thought herself in some old world astronomy lab.<p>

"Right this way," the Doctor said, leading her onto the platform.

Up close, she could see all the details in the telescope, the small cogs and gears on the outside and the intricate designs. In front of the telescope was a old leather couch fit against a curved railed.

"It's brilliant," Miranda smiled. "Did you make it yourself?"

"Had a bit of help from Galileo," he shrugged, sitting on the couch. He patted the seat beside him and Miranda rolled her eyes and complied.

"We can see every celestial body within thirty-three galaxies from us," the Doctor told her. "Here, you operate it like this."

He rotated a medium crank on the side of the telescope and the platform raised. "And this one, is the zoomy crank," he informed, turning a smaller one with two fingers. "And this is my favorite. I call it the hold-onto-your-seat-you're-in-for-a-ride crank! You'll see why!" The Doctor turned another on the other side of the telescope and the whole platform spun around. "Sometimes, I come in here just for that!" he grinned.

"I can totally believe that," she snorted.

"Well, don't let me have all the fun," he said, scooting over so she could sit in front of the eyepiece. "Have a go."

Miranda leaned forward and looked into the telescope. Vast arrays of stars and a few bright planets were before her. Testing out her controls, she turned the smallest crank forwards and the lens magnified so she could see a blueish constellation.

"What's this one called?" she asked, letting the Doctor bend over to look.

"Oh, that's the constellation Remy Yaxxe Five," he said. "'Bout two centuries old. See the star at the top?"

"Mhm."

"That was only considered part of the constellation seventeen years ago. Before that, it was known as Remy Yaxxe _Four_."

Miranda smiled, completely engulfed by the vastness of space. The platform turned and she bit her lip. "This one's a planet, yeah?"

The Doctor looked and pulled a face. "Yeah… Clum."

"And the one beside it?"

"It's twin, Raxacoricofallapatorius."

Miranda gave him an incredulous look. "You're making that up."

"No! I'm not! Cross my hearts!"

She shook her head and peered back into the telescope. They continued back and forth for what seemed like ages, combing over several galaxies in the process. At some point, Miranda grew too tired to use the telescope and instead, the Doctor began pointing to the sky above them, naming things for her.

"And _that_ is the Frodo Nebula," he explained. "Only turns out the smallest stars. I might have had some input in naming it…"

Miranda smiled sleepily. "You would."

"I _did_. But that's nothing," he dismissed. "There's a whole _planet_ called Frodo where I'm known as the Dancing Monarch Gandalf."

"You'll have to… take me there… sometime," she breathed, her voice groggy.

The Doctor smiled. "I don't think you'd want to. The natives aren't what you'd expect—sort of… naked llamas that talk. Very hospitable, maybe too much so… After a few days the smiles start to disturb you…"

"Hm…"

He glanced down as Miranda started to fall into him. At the last minute, she jolted upright.

"You have to sleep some time," he told her softly.

She shook her head. "I can't… I don't want to…"

"You're half asleep already."

"Mmm."

The Doctor stood. "Alright. Let's get you to bed."

"No," she groaned, eyes still shut.

"If you don't want to walk, I'll have to carry you," he teased with a smirk.

Her eyes shot open, as expected, and she glared at him. "Fine," she growled, swatting him away. "I can walk."

He grinned at her grumpy face as she stood. Begrudgingly, Miranda let him support her as she was tilting dangerously in the hall. The TARDIS was able to shift things around so that they reached her bedroom rather quickly. The Doctor held the hammock steady as she climbed in. Miranda was sleeping before she even hit the pillow.

After a moment's indecision, he placed two fingers to her temple. His brows furrowed in concentration. This was something he couldn't do often since human minds were so fragile but just once, he could offer Miranda some relief. The Doctor smiled down at her, pushing a strand of hair from her face and he left his companion to a dreamless night's sleep. He really did like the sound of that.

_His companion. _


	18. Chapter 18

An: Still unhappy with the last chapter. Not sure how OOC they were, if they were. Anyway, hopefully this'll get us back on track! Let me know what you think!

Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed!

* * *

><p>Chapter Eighteen: The Calm Before<p>

Miranda awoke to a clap of thunder and the heavy pattering of rain. She groaned softly and her eyes opened gradually, a frown tugging down her lips as she realized her usual vision of the cosmos was replaced with that of a storm. She lay in bed, watching the rain pour over her domed ceiling in sheets of water.

"Mm. Guess we landed," she murmured, stretching her arms. She paused in the action as the previous night's events came to mind and groaned, "Oh, bugger it all."

With an aggravated sigh, she rolled out of the hammock. "I _swear_ there'll be a day when I don't turn into a total wreck in front of that man," she said to herself, shaking her head.

Oddly enough, the memory didn't put her in a foul mood—something attributed to the fact that she actually had a decent night's sleep which was absolutely unheard of for her. Her nights normally ranged from "mildly traumatizing" to "rip-your-face-off terrifying". Even with the Valeyard gone, the years of torture he inflicted caused lasting damage. Nightmares, flashbacks; it was very likely that she'd never fully heal. But even with the hard reality, she didn't have to stop trying. Being just okay, she had determined, was good enough for her.

Miranda freshened up in the bathroom which was now infuriatingly spaced out over a city block's distance; it took about five minutes to reach the sink from the door. She noted, with great disdain as she looked in the mirror, that the Doctor's description of her in the morning was spot on, what with her messy hair and sleeve imprinted on the side of her face. The phrase "Too smart for his own good" came to mind. Hate him sometimes, she thought to herself as she brushed her teeth.

After she had dressed in a teal turtleneck and jeans and stopped in the kitchen for a quick breakfast (she assumed it was morning), Miranda made her way down to the control room. Once there, she realized the Doctor wasn't. Perhaps the previous night had been so awkward, he had deemed it a good reason to hide.

"Oh, there you are!"

Or not.

"I was wondering when you'd get up!" the Doctor said, his voice coming from somewhere below her.

Miranda looked down to see the Doctor underneath the glass bottom platform, digging through some compartment. He pulled out a large, black umbrella and grinned, making his way up to her. "Sleep well?" he asked casually.

"Better than I have in the last _year_," she said truthfully.

She missed the Doctor's small smile as she noticed the umbrella's odd handle; it appeared to be shaped like a red question mark. Of course, nothing's normal with him.

"You could've woken me," she shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed for sleeping in.

"_No_. Are you kidding?" the Doctor dismissed. "Wouldn't have woken you for the world! And speaking of that! The world is right outside our doors. Landed not too long ago."

"I take it we're not on the Planet of Eternal Sunshine," Miranda teased.

"Nope! Good ole Earth!" he beamed, crossing the console room in a few quick strides. He waited for her at the doors.

"Earth?" she drawled, unimpressed. "What happened to that happy tree planet you promised? Did you get lost again?"

"I didn't get _lost_!" he said indignantly. "Besides, what's wrong with Earth? Great planet, one of my favorites."

Miranda shrugged. "Just seems a bit boring. Seen one rainy day in London, seen 'em all."

"You haven't seen a rainy day in 1818, have you?"

She quirked a brow, suddenly intrigued. "We're in 1818?"

"Yup."

"You're _sure_ this time?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said, throwing open the doors.

The sound of rain bombarded the two as they stood within the safety of the TARDIS. Miranda stared at the onslaught on rain, unable to see more than an arm's reach in front of her. She shook her head.

"Nope."

The Doctor opened his umbrella, undeterred. "A little rain never killed… well, actually, nevermind. The point is we'll manage!" he grinned, taking a hold of her elbow and leading her out into the maelstrom.

The pair huddled against the wind and rain, somewhat fighting over control of the umbrella. They compromised rather quickly, each keeping one hand gripped tightly on the handle and the other around the other's back in the fear that they'd be blown away. In the end, the Doctor had to hunch over to compensate their height difference.

"Well!" the Doctor shouted. "At least it isn't raining _glass_!"

"Always the optimist, aren't you?" Miranda asked, irritated.

"When it suits me," he grinned.

A flash of lighting streaked across the grey sky, illuminating the field they stood in with blindingly bright light. There seemed to be nothing in any direction and as the lightning finished its quick succession of flashes, the darkness of the night closed in over them once again.

"Maybe we sh—" Miranda began to say but the thunder roared, drowning out her words and shook the ground they stood on.

"What?" the Doctor shouted back.

"Maybe we should go back!" she said again.

The Doctor leaned closer to reply over the sound of pounding rain. "We've made it this far. "No use turning back now! Besides!" he grinned. "It can't get much worse!"

And just as the words left his mouth, the Doctor and Miranda suddenly found themselves chest high in a bog. Miranda's shriek of surprise was lost in the storm. She flailed her arms, hoping not to go under the stinking bog's surface. She quickly backpedaled, latching onto the solid ground behind her and trying to pull herself out of the mud and grime. Miranda heaved herself onto land, clutching at the wet grass and clawing the ground until her feet could push her further out of the bog. The Doctor was next to her again, covered in the same bog-water and muck that she was.

The rain continued to assault them as they lie in the muddy grass, trying to catch their breath. Her clothes felt like lead, heavy enough to make her sink into the soft ground as if it were a suit of armor. Now out of immediate danger, she glanced around for the umbrella, wondering if it had fallen into the bog with them. There was another streak of lightning and they saw the umbrella far into the distance, silhouetted against the dark storm clouds.

Miranda turned to glare at the Doctor. "Can't get much worse?" she growled.

He was still watching the black speck in the sky with sorrow. "I really liked that umbrella..."

She groaned loudly and sat up. The Doctor gave a sheepish smile and helped Miranda to her feet. The two stood there in the middle of the storm, debating the best course of action.

"We have to get out of the storm!" Miranda shouted.

"I agree!" the Doctor yelled back.

"Should we head back to the TARDIS?"

He shook his head, his fringe falling into his eyes. "Too far! We should keep going!"

Miranda nearly stomped her foot in frustration. "And risk falling into another bog?"

"We'll keep going _carefully_!"

She pursed her lips but nodded. He was right though; it'd been at least an hour of walking and she doubted that they could make it back. They trudged on, taking tentative steps for fear of another bog pit. The Doctor suddenly took off his tweed coat and held it over his head, motioning for Miranda to come on. She did so without hesitation, taking shelter under his jacket as they walked. In any other occasion, she'd have cringed at the idea of being so close to him, or anyone for the matter, but the small bit of protection from the maelstrom he offered was well-welcomed. Her fingers and toes had gone numb from the cold and her body shook in a vain attempt to raise her temperature. Miranda huddled against the Doctor, pressing her icy hands to his chest in a sad effort to warm them. She felt like some kind of vampire, trying to drain whatever body heat she could through his sopping wet shirt.

"There's a light up ahead!" the Doctor said suddenly.

Miranda followed his gaze to a small orange glow in the distance. It could be a house, she thought, and the small hope was enough to get the pair moving again. The Doctor and Miranda hurried across the field, avoiding the flooded parts of land which were very likely to be sink-holes, until they could see that the light was indeed from a building, and a large one at that. Lightning came forth at that moment and hung in the sky which illumined their destination with sharp clarity. Tall spires stabbed the air, dark and menacing, high windows reflected the sudden light and stone gargoyles perched on the mansion, snarling a silent warning. Thunder cracked and a bolt of lightning streaked down from the heavens, striking a metal rod atop the mansion's roof. It writhed and convulsed erratically for a few seconds before dissipating, leaving the pair again in blackness.

They both stared, quite in shock and unaware of the wind whipping their hair into each other's faces. Miranda was the first to recover.

"Well, to hell with that!" she cried, turning tail.

The Doctor caught her. "Oh, c'mon. It can't be that—"

"I swear, if you finish that sentence, I will hit you," Miranda growled.

He took a step back, eying her warily. "It's the only option we have," he reasoned but she wasn't having any of it.

"What about walking briskly in the other direction? I vote that!" Miranda shouted. "There is no way I'm going in there!"

"Well, there's no way I'm letting you catch pneumonia out here!" he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the mansion.

She groaned loudly once they reached the door. The Doctor shrugged off his coat, grabbed the brass door knocker and banged it against the metal backing. He knocked four times and then quickly once more, shivering slightly.

"There's no one here, let's go," Miranda urged.

"And who put the light on inside?" he responded. "Definitely not 'no one'."

"Maybe a ghost?" she suggested cheekily.

He shook his head. "Don't be silly, Miranda. There's no such thing as ghosts," he replied then added. "… Exactly."

Miranda looked at him incredulously, about to snap when the door flew open. She jumped but the Doctor smiled brightly. "Hello!"

The woman who answered was a petite blonde with wide, nervous eyes that flickered between the pair. She wore a long black dress with a high collar, long sleeves and a white apron over the front. "May I help you?" she said finally, in a small voice.

"Our carriage broke down some ways back," the Doctor explained. "Do you think we could wait inside until the storm lets up?"

She hesitated before stepping back and opening the door for them. "Please, come in. You can wait in the drawing room while I inform the master of your arrival."

Miranda let the Doctor's coat, hang from her shoulders. The maid shut and bolted the door behind them and led the way to the drawing room. "Please, refrain from dripping on the carpet," the maid said. "I will be back shortly." With that, she nodded and left, closing the double doors behind her.

There was a fire going in the hearth which Miranda quickly hovered next to, holding her hands out to warm them. She handed the tweed back to the Doctor who put it back on despite its current soggy state.

"See? No ghosts," he smirked, playfully nudging her arm.

She sniffed. "_Yet_."

The doors opened and the maid appeared, this time more relaxed. "I'll take you upstairs to change into something… warmer," she finished, eying Miranda's attire. "Please, follow me."

"So," the Doctor started as they climbed the long staircase. "When will we meet this master of the manor?"

The maid glanced back at him. "At dinner," she replied. "I'll collect you and the others when the hour draws nearer to seven."

"The others?" both repeated in unison.

"Yes," the maid answered. "You're not the only guests to take shelter here tonight… You may find some dry clothes in here. Ma'am, if you'll follow me down the hall?"

"Okay," Miranda muttered, shooting the Doctor a look. He gave her two thumbs up in response.

Miranda dogged after the blonde, looking around as if she expected a monster to jump out at her. They came upon a room, just a few doors down from where the Doctor was. The maid entered quickly, lighting an oil lamp by the bedside. "There are gowns in the wardrobe that should fit you."

"Alright. Thanks, er…?"

The maid blinked and looked away. "Margaret."

"Thank you, Margaret," Miranda finished. "I'm Miranda, by the way."

Margaret smoothed down the front of her apron. "Please wait here until I come back for you. The master doesn't want people to wander," she informed before turning and walking back down the hall.

With a sigh, Miranda shut the door, wary of being alone in the strange mansion. Even with the lantern, the room was still dark, its corners shrouded in shadow. Miranda crossed to the wardrobe, taking the lantern with her. She quickly threw the doors open, relieved that she didn't find Dracula in there. There were an assortment of dresses, mostly of dark colors save for a red one.

"Oh, brilliant," she drawled, annoyed at the prospect of wearing a dress.

She looked over a few with mild distaste but the chill from her wet clothes forced her to choose one. Miranda stripped down to her undergarments, peeling the soaking fabric from her skin. She examined the gown, deciding how it would be best to put it on—the many buttons down the back suggested she needed help doing it up. In the end, she ended up slipping it over her head and wriggling into the sleeves and bodice with some difficulty. She gasped when the gown finally tugged into place.

"Bloody hell," she panted. "Thing's a damn deathtrap!"

The floor length mirror caught her eye and she frowned before deciding to look at her reflection. The dress fit snugly around her chest, the scooped neckline giving the world a decent view of her breasts. Miranda cringed and even she had to look away with a blush.

"Brilliant," Miranda said to herself. "I look like an eighteenth century call girl."

She threw her hands up in defeat and glared at the reflection. Aside from that, it wasn't so bad; the dress being a navy color, trimmed with black lace. It fell to her ankles and the sleeves, to her wrists.

Moving away from the mirror, she slid her boots back on and went to search for a jumper or something to cover her chest with. She held the lantern close as she looked through the drawers, her need to hide as much skin as possible winning out over the guilt of rummaging through someone's belongings.

Whose room was this anyway? Not to be rude but she doubted a maid would have so many dresses, and expensive looking ones too. So who else lived here? Or used to live here?

"Ah ha," she said softly, picking up a black shawl.

It was made of a soft lace and transparent but it would work nicely. Miranda fastened it around her neck and let it fall past her shoulders. "Presto," she smirked. "Now they're gone." She crossed her arms and looked to the pile of wet clothes. She didn't want to look like a total slob so she found an attached bathroom and rung them out in the sink, hanging them on the edge of the bathtub to dry.

Back in the bedroom, Miranda sighed. She was getting restless, tapping her foot on the floor, her anxiety building. Suddenly, there was a rustling sound like fabric in the wind and her heart stopped. Miranda whipped around quickly to find the thick drapes fluttering. She put a hand to her heart and marched over, yanking them open. The window had a small hole in the middle of a spiderwebbed crack, letting the storm's wind blow in.

Miranda cursed under her breath at her skittishness. She stared past the glass pane into the storm. The rain still poured down in sheets and the low rumble of thunder was muffled by the mansion walls. Down below, on the property grounds, she saw a very large muddy patch. Probably another bog, she mused.

A sharp knock sounded at the door, causing her to jump. "Come in," she called, hoping not to sound frazzled.

The door swung open and the Doctor entered with a grin at seeing her.

"Hey!" she cried, noticing the Doctor wore his normal attire. "Why aren't you in some weird getup like me?"

The Doctor patted his coat. "Infinity tweed," he explained. "Dries nine times as fast as normal tweed."

She glared. "Well, that's great for you. I'm just stuck here looking like I fell out of a Jane Austen novel."

"Aw, come on, Miranda. Have a little fun," he teased. "Besides, you look nice. Hardly even notice the smeared eyeliner and the wet rat look your hair's giving off."

Her cold expression made the Doctor nervous and he started fidgeting with his blue bowtie. "But you look nice…" he added hesitantly.

She rolled her eyes. "Can we leave yet?"

"Leave? We just got here," the Doctor protested.

Miranda sighed. "Look, maybe you _enjoy_ being chased down and nearly eaten by monsters but I _don't_! This place is giving me the creeps."

"It's an old creepy mansion, of course, it's giving you the creeps," he said but upon seeing her genuinely worried expression, added, "We'll leave as soon as the storm lets up. Eh?"

She pursed her lips then reluctantly nodded.

"Well!" the Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands together. He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

"Margaret said not to wander," Miranda said, hoping to deter the Time Lord's curiosity.

"Who says we're going to wander? We'll simply amble without a destination."

"That's wandering."

He shrugged. "I try not to put an absolute definition to words. Imposing one's standards and such."

When she didn't budge, the Doctor feigned indifference. "Alright, well, you just wait here…by yourself… in a thunderstorm... in a _spooky_ room…in a _spooky_ mansion…"

Miranda sighed, taking the lantern in hand and linking arms with him. "So it begins," she muttered, dejectedly.

The Doctor grinned at her ill-tempered demeanor and led the way into the dark hall. Objectives: fun with a side of mischief. And possibly getting Miranda to smile.

"Allons—"

"I. Will. Hit. You."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen: The Storm

The Doctor led Miranda through the mansion rather quickly, grinning excitedly, like a kid browsing a toy shop. If it hadn't been for the many times he backtracked and doubled back, she'd have thought he actually knew where he was going. Miranda trotted to keep up with his long strides, shining the lantern's glow in front of them so he didn't run into a wall. Again. She'd have just given him the lantern and spared herself the trouble of rushing after him but because of the Time Lord's sporadic way of walking, and moving in general, she thought it best to prevent him from tripping and accidentally burning the place down. She sighed as the Doctor stopped to examine a piece of peeling wallpaper.

"Have you got it out of you system yet?" she asked with pursed lips.

"Never," he grinned. "Look, there's little unicorns in the wall pattern!"

Her hard expression didn't change.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Oh, _alright_. Where do you want to go then?"

"_Home_," she replied quickly.

The pair froze, looking at each other in shock. "TARDIS, I meant to say. _TARDIS_," Miranda added, now deciding to look at the tiny unicorns. He grinned and wrapped her in a tight hug, apparently overjoyed at her mishap of words.

"Holding a lantern here," Miranda choked, trying to swat him away.

He let go, oblivious to the red tint on her face. "After the storm, you agreed," he reminded her. "Let's find the library. Everyone loves a library, eh?"

"If you say so."

"Oh! Stop that!" he chided lightly. "Don't you know how to have fun?"

"_This_ is fun?"

"It would be if you quit frowning like that."

"I'm not _frowning_."

"You are."

"That's just how my face looks."

"No, it's not."

"It's _my_ face, I think I'd know!"

"Exactly. I look at your face more than you do," the Doctor argued. "If anything, I'm the face expert. And I say, that's your I-refuse-to-have-fun face. Not my favorite, to be honest."

Miranda continued to glare and then sighed. "You're such a little know it all," she mumbled, stalking past him.

He waited a moment, thinking it over before jogging up to her. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said which only made Miranda's frown increase.

"So the library! Smells like it's…" he paused a moment to sniff the air, missing his companion's aghast stare. "_This_ way!"

"You have got to be kidding," she deadpanned. "You can _smell_ the library?"

"You_ can't_? Really? That old book smell is classic. Almost as good as that new book smell. Actually, I don't know which is better, to be honest…" the Doctor rambled. "C'mon, c'mon! Allon—I'll stop, really. Sorry. I'll try not to do that anymore."

Miranda reluctantly trailed behind him, almost dragging her feet.

"Come along, Miranda!" he said, sounding antsy. "Mirandy, Randy, Andy… Hm, that doesn't really work, does it? Miranda, it is. Come _on_."

"If I catch up, I'm gonna clock you over the head, I swear."

He merely grinned back at her, clearly seeing through her bluff. Or at least he hoped she wasn't serious.

"Ha ha!" he cried, flinging open a door. "Oh, love me a good library, I do… I _think_."

Miranda paused in the doorway, eying the Doctor scurrying from shelf to shelf. The library was a moderate size—wooden bookcases, red carpeted floor and decorated with ornate furniture. There was a fireplace which was currently not lit and off to the side of it was a sheet covered object that looked suspiciously like a canvas.

She was immediately intrigued, despite herself, and walked over. With a careful tug, she removed the cloth and sure enough, it was a painting. The lantern revealed it to be a portrait of three: a man, woman and child. They looked proud and noble with a distinct aristocratic air. The man had long, sandy hair, pulled back in a low ponytail, and sideburns that ran along his jaw, his narrow eyes a greenish color from what she could tell. He wore an expensive-looking emerald green coat and carried a silver wolf's head cane. His wife, Miranda presumed, sat on a chair in front of him, her long black haired curled and arranged over one shoulder. Her dark eyes wrinkled at the corners as if she had been smiling. She wore a dress of the same green which was elaborately detailed and trimmed with lace. Their son, who looked about six or seven, sat on her lap, wearing a green dress shirt, a pair of knickerbockers and knee high socks. His features took more after his mother, except for the eyes. Green—that seemed to be this family's theme.

"A little light here, thanks," the Doctor called but she ignored him, still cataloguing the painting.

"Oil on canvas," she muttered to herself. "Probably about four—"

"Whatcha looking at?"

She jumped as the Doctor popped up behind her. "Just a painting."

He crouched beside her, scanning over it. His fingers ghosted over the frame where a rectangular piece seemed to be missing. "There was a plaque here," he commented. "Normally said the family name and when it was done."

"Why's it gone?"

"And why's the family portrait tucked away where no one can see it?"

They shared a look.

"Probably nothing," the Doctor shrugged but his dismissive manner hardly fooled his companion. Miranda decided to let it go. So long as nothing weird happened, they should be out of the creepy old house by tomorrow. Or sooner if she were lucky.

She found the Doctor back by shelves, and lighted the area where he stood.

"Anything good?"

"Nothing I haven't read before," he replied, pulling out a large leather bound book. Miranda turned her head to read the cover.

"_Hallerian Theory in Regards to Physiological Matters of the_—"

"What do you think you're doing in here?" came an annoyed voice.

Margaret stood in the doorway, leering at them. "I _specifically_ told you not to wander."

"Sorry," Miranda said sheepishly.

"My fault," the Doctor added, putting the book in place. "Too curious for my own good."

"_Indeed_," the maid replied curtly. "If you will follow me." Her tone left no room for argument.

* * *

><p>The dining room was on the ground floor, across from the drawing room. When they got there, two men were already seated at the long, cherry wood table. The room was dark, save for a candelabrum in the center of the table. Long drapes blocked most of the lightning from outside but the howling wind was easily heard.<p>

"Dinner will be served shortly," Margaret announced, taking the lantern from Miranda. "Please remain _here_." She gave a pointed look in the Doctor's direction before leaving, shutting the doors behind her.

"Hello," the Doctor greeted, sitting at the head of the table. Miranda sat beside him, across from the men.

"Ah, good eve, sir, madam," said one with a nod to each. He was rather young with brown hair that swept past his ears and a kind smile. "Thomas Burton. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"And you. I'm the Doctor and this is Miranda."

Miranda gave a slight wave.

"See you braved the storm," laughed the other man. He looked a bit older than Thomas and shaggier too with dark hair and a bit of stubble on his cheeks. "Desmond Burton, at your service," he introduced, standing to shake both of their hands.

"Are you-?" the Doctor began but the Burtons cut him off.

"No relation," they said in unison, as if it came up a lot.

"Best mates, we are," Thomas said. "The surnames—"

"Just a coincidence," Desmond grinned.

"Or more like fate that we met," Thomas supplied. "Really, what were the odds?"

"Oh, would you like to know?" the Doctor asked cheerfully.

"No, they wouldn't," Miranda answered, shooting the Doctor a look.

"So what brought you here? Horse fell in a bog?" Desmond asked.

"More like _we_ did," Miranda muttered, pursing her lips.

"_But_ our carriage broke down first," the Doctor added, trying to keep their story straight.

"That was us too," Thomas frowned. "A wheel got stuck in the mud and the next thing we knew—"

"Whole back end's arse deep in it!" Desmond exclaimed. "Tried pulling her out but no luck." He shook his head solemnly. "Almost took the mule in with it!"

"She's safe in the stables," Thomas nodded with a smile. "Once the storm clears up, she may be able to pull the carriage out of the muck."

"_If_ it lets up," shorted Desmond.

The Doctor leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. "Awfully nice of our host to let us stay," he began. "Have you seen him?"

"Lord Something or another?" Desmond asked then shrugged. "Nah, haven't seen hide nor hair of him. Can't say I really care, s'long as he doesn't give us the boot!"

"Des!" Thomas scolded, giving his friend an appalled look.

"What? I'm only joking!"

"Do you know anything about him?" the Doctor inquired. "He had a number of science-y books in his library and I was just wondering what his interests were. I'm a bit of a science-y person _myself_." He beamed at Miranda then at the Burtons, pleased with himself.

Thomas looked confused. "Science-y?"

"Don't worry about it," Miranda shook her head.

"Library, eh? Haven't seen that. Or anything other than the guest rooms and here," Desmond said with a click of his tongue. "Starting to think he suspects us as thieves or something. Don't want us near the fine silver and such."

Thomas frowned. "Oh, I don't think that," he drawled. "It's his house, and he was kind enough to let us in. We should respect his wishes."

"Yes," Miranda added, turning to the Doctor. "And not wander around like we own the place."

The Doctor sat there, aloof, unaware that her comment was aimed at him. She rolled her eyes and leaned heavily on the table.

"Rules or no, I just hope that we'll eat soon," Desmond complained. "I'm starving! Hasn't he ever heard of being on time?"

Lightning flashed brightly, piercing the curtains and flooding the room in bright white. Following soon after was a crash of thunder that rattled the window panes and the whole room shook from its force. Both Miranda and Thomas jumped in their seats and then all heads swiveled to the doors as they were thrown open. A tall figure was silhouetted in the doorway as a final flash of lightning flickered into nothing. Thunder rumbled as the man strode into the room.

Miranda quickly leaned over to the Doctor and hissed, "It's the man from the painting!"

"My apologies to have kept you waiting," he said in a smooth voice. He stood beside the Doctor, looking down at him expectantly. Miranda cleared her throat, trying to get the Time Lord's attention but he not to notice. The man clenched his jaw. "This is where _I _ sit, sir."

"Oh, is it?" the Doctor exclaimed, leaping up. "It _did_ seem a bit lived in. You must be _the Lord of the Manor_. Never did catch your name."

"No, I don't believe you have. How very rude of Margaret," the man tsked, settling into the chair. He set his silver cane against the table. "I am Lord Faust. Welcome to my humble home. I hope you've found your stay well thus far?"

The Doctor plopped beside Miranda who sat awkwardly next their host. "Bit dreary, to be honest," he answered before getting elbowed by Miranda.

"Thank you for letting us stay," Miranda said, hoping to make up for the Doctor's rudeness.

"But of course," Lord Faust replied, turning his eyes to her. "I would have to be heartless to allow you to suffer in this weather."

"We're very grateful," Thomas said with a smile. "Thomas Burton, sir."

"Yes, I know who you are. Margaret has informed me. Oh, where is she?" he asked, now annoyed. "Margaret! Don't keep us waiting!"

Not long after, the doors opened and Margaret hurried in with a cart of platters. "So sorry, sir. Won't happen again, sir," she grimaced. "The shutters blew open in the storm, sir. It took—"

"Yes, yes, _excuses_," Lord Faust frowned.

Margaret kept her eyes downcast as she placed a number of plates and bowls in front of her employer and his guests. Miranda muttered a quiet "Thanks" but it seemed the maid was too focused to acknowledge her.

"You're not needed here," Lord Faust told her once she was finished. "You may go."

She gave a slight bow. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Miranda noticed that the Doctor bristled slightly, eying Lord Faust in distaste. "So! What is it you do exactly?" the Time Lord asked him.

"I am Lord of this Estate," he chuckled. "Is that not enough?"

"That's it then? No hobbies?"

Lord Faust remained calm and smiled, pleasantly. "What man does not have any?"

"So, what are yours?"

The smile on Lord Faust's face stayed in place. "What curiosity at such a trivial matter," he remarked. "I suppose I must indulge you then, mustn't I? I'm a student of Natural Philosophy, if you must know. The pursuit of knowledge appeals to me, as it does all other well educated men."

"And women," Miranda added on impulse.

Lord Faust gave her a patronizing smirk and chuckled. "And what of you?" he asked, turning to the Doctor. "What is your area of study, Dr. Cole?"

Miranda started choking on her soup at the name, nearly spitting it all over the table. Both she and the Doctor stared, brows raised and mouths slightly open before turning towards each other with dumbfounded expressions.

"Uh, _right_," the Doctor said, recovering quickly. He turned back to Lord Faust with one of his fast smiles. "That's us- a married couple. Wed and all. Mr. and Mrs. C–oh, I can't even say it."

"He's a doctor of medicine," Miranda answered for him. "And... stuff… I'm—"

"Mr. Burton?" Faust asked, cutting her off. "And… Mr. Burton? How about you?"

Miranda glared.

"I don't think Miranda was done speaking," the Doctor commented. "Bit rude to interrupt a lady, eh? Not gentlemanly-like."

"Oh, wasn't she? So sorry, dear," Faust pouted. "What was it you have to contribute?"

"_My occupation_," she said through gritted teeth.

"Ah, so you're a mother then?"

"No."

"A home-keeper."

"_No_."

"A seamstress?"

"No," she growled.

"Then what could you possibly be?" he chucked.

"I'm an _artist_, thank you very much."

"Someone who pushes paint around? Very amusing," he nodded to the Doctor. "Precious, this one. Though I can imagine it becoming tiresome. Tell me, do you prefer the belt or a more hands-on method?"

The Doctor's knuckles had gone white as he clenched his fists. His face; however, remained dangerously calm. "Is that why your wife and son left you?" he asked in a low tone.

"My family is of no concern to you," Faust hissed, his passive façade finally dropping. "How _dare_ you pry into my business when I've so graciously allowed you into my home! I should throw you both into the cold!" He squared his jaw and pursed his lips. "I am a _gentleman_; however, and therefore cannot, should your wellbeing grate on my conscious."

Lord Faust stood. "I bid you all a good eve, and a safe departure should I not see you out in the morn," he said through tight lips. He gave the Doctor a hard stare before snatching his cane and turning on his heel, stalking out the door.

The silence that settled over the dining hall was tense. The Doctor had yet to relax his fists and Miranda kept staring into her bowl of unfinished soup. Thomas fidgeted nervously and Desmond pocketed his set of silverware.

"Guess no one wants to know what we do for a living," the older Burton said, breaking the quiet.

Miranda shifted. "Uh, sorry. What is it?"

"We're shoemen!"

"Shoemen?" she questioned.

"Shoe salesmen," Thomas explained. "He just says shoe men because he thinks it's funny."

"It is!"

"Alright, Des. _Alright_."

Margaret walked into the dining room. "If you are finished, I'll escort you to your rooms," she said, eying the guests quickly.

All four complied, having either lost their appetites or in Desmond's case, downing more than his share.

"So, Miss Margaret, has that Faust always had a broom stuck up his—"

"Desmond!"

"What?"

Margaret's face remained impassive.

"You _know_," Desmond continued. "A right, foul git."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she replied, leading them up a staircase.

Desmond frowned and shared a look with Thomas as they came to the landing. The Burtons were given rooms across from each other, in a different wing than the one Margaret had shown Miranda to when they first arrived. Further down the hall, they came to another door.

"This will be your room," Margaret said to the pair who both stared at her. "If you need anything, there's a bell system at the end of the hall. There's no need to go any farther than that."

"Right... _our room_," the Doctor said, glancing at the door, Miranda and then Margaret. "The room for us, for me and uh… right."

The blonde seemed to have had enough and nodded before making her way back down the stairs, leaving the two standing there awkwardly.

"_Our_ room," he said again, as if trying to get it down pat.

Miranda sighed and opened the door. She stepped into the dark room and found four-tiered candelabra and matches. The small flames illuminated the modest yet affluent bedroom. The pair's gaze was drawn to the bed, the single bed. Miranda saw the Doctor scan the room, wringing his hands, looking for a chair or some other sleeping option and she pretended to ignore him. She strode over to the bed and kicked off her boots. At seeing the Doctor still standing in the doorway, she rolled her eyes.

"Just c'mon," she sighed.

"You're sure?"

"You've seen me just about half-naked and tied to a bed," she reminded him. "I think we can manage. Besides... we're married, _Dr. Cole_."

The Doctor relaxed at her teasing and shut the door. "Almost forgot, _Mrs. Cole_."

Miranda cringed. "Don't call me that. That's my mother."

"Whatever you say, honeybunch."

She glared at him, somewhat playfully. "You're _really_ asking for it. You know that," she warned.

The Doctor smiled, glancing around the room again, this time for curiosity's sake. Miranda sat on the four poster bed, the sheer drapes falling on either side of her. She went to unfasten the shawl from around her neck then stopped, remembering that the dress pushed up _certain_ parts of her body. With a frustrated sigh, her hands fell to the mattress.

"Do you think my clothes are dry by now?" she asked aloud, picturing them hanging over the bathtub where she left them.

"Denim and polyester?" he snorted. "Not likely. Give it another three days to air-dry, at least. Probably smell a bit weird but…"

She frowned, hating the idea of spending another moment in the uncomfortably form fitting bodice. The Doctor plopped down beside her and she threw out any ideas of undressing. Miranda laid down, letting the curtains fall closed. Neither said anything, both clearly awake and lying there stiffly.

The storm could still be heard, raging on outside. The occasional flash of lightning would brighten the room and the low growls of thunder rolled through the relative silence. Rain was thrown against the windows, pattering and sometimes assaulting the glass. The wind's howls mingled with the thunder and its chill crept into the room.

Miranda finally gave in and sat up, pulling the blankets down and worming underneath. "G'night," she said quickly, turning over so that her back was to the Doctor.

"Good night, Miranda," he replied softly, glancing over at her.

She noticed that he didn't get under the covers, either to prevent her from feeling uncomfortable or because he was uncomfortable, himself. She wasn't sure which. Although, she reasoned, it could have been both. It didn't matter though. It was up to him... Her thoughts trailed off and weariness soon took their place.

The Doctor listened to Miranda's steady breathing after a while, indicating she was asleep. He made no attempts to sleep, himself, his brain much too awake. He wanted to look around the mansion, or snoop, more like. That Lord Faust had angered him to say the least, both in how he treated Miranda and Margaret and also at his insinuation, even if it _had_ been meant to goad him… The Doctor set his jaw.

A low groan drew his attention to Miranda. He rolled onto his side to get a better view of her. Her breathing had changed—it was now shallow and quick—and her face showed signs of discomfort. She was having a nightmare.

He was fully sat up in bed now, leaning over her, trying to gently shake her awake. "Miranda," he called. "It's just a dream."

His words went unheard as her brows furrowed and her lips parted in another whimper. He moved a strand of hair from her forehead, very tempted to make a mental link with her to quell her mind. But he couldn't. Not again.

"You have to wake up, Miranda," he told her in a louder voice. "Miranda… _Miranda_."

It still had no effect and Miranda started to toss and turn. "No," she murmured, her face contorted. "No."

The Doctor ran a hand through his fringe, this seeming all too familiar. _He_ was gone and yet she still suffered him.

"Miranda, wake up. You can fight this! Wake up!"

Miranda's eyes snapped open with a gasp and upon seeing the Doctor, reeled back in fear. "No!" she cried, flattening herself against the headboard before realizing her mistake.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly yet still didn't move.

"No," the Doctor murmured, looking down at the blankets. "It's fine. Really."

She forced her muscles to relax and tried to ease out of her petrified state. The Doctor wasn't looking at her as he quickly stood and spoke, "Think I'll just pop out for—"

"_Stop_… please?"

Her desperate tone cut through his false cheer.

"Lie down," she groaned, hunching over to rest her face in her palms.

The Doctor turned a fraction to look at her, his eyes glazed with regret and pulling at his fingers before complying. Miranda slid down onto her back, eyes open. Neither spoke for some time, the sound of rain filling the silence between them.

"I dreamt of my sixteenth birthday," she said finally.

Normally, the Doctor would have commented that such a thing was nice but Miranda's somber tone said it was otherwise.

"It was always worse on my birthdays," she said quietly. "He wouldn't just use knives, he—" Miranda shut her eyes. "Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he'd find a way."

The Doctor found himself close to shuddering. He could think of many horrific things that Miranda may have been alluding to but what was most unsettling was that if he could think of them, his darker self could have as well. Any of the terrible thoughts that crossed his mind were very possible to have happened to Miranda and honestly, it made him sick. Part of him wanted to know what she had been put through, _exactly_ what his dark side had done to her but at the same time, for once, he was afraid of gaining such knowledge.

He had a lifetime of guilt on his shoulders already but the thought of having hurt Miranda, consciously or not, was too much to bear. For the most part, he had a good idea of how the Valeyard had tortured her and that alone made him feel undeserving to sit beside her or even interact with her. Yet even then, the Doctor couldn't bring himself to isolate himself from her. Somehow, he felt that every time he caused her to smile, it almost made up for every time that the Valeyard caused her to cry or scream. Almost. The Doctor knew he could never atone for the abuse of his darker side but for some reason which he deemed as selfish, he had to try.

Both the Doctor and Miranda stayed beside each other in silence, unable to look each other in the eye.

"I don't think I can sleep now," Miranda announced, the effects of the nightmare nearly gone.

"Neither can I," the Doctor replied, staring at the ceiling.

Miranda was aware of her pinky finger accidentally crossed over his. Still, she didn't move it away despite her frazzled nerves and normal abhorrence for physical contact. This was the Doctor, who cared for her, who had saved her. He didn't deserve to be alienated like everyone. If there was one person whom she should trust, it was him. He was different. He was special. He was… the Doctor. With a final thought, she hooked her pinky around his, squeezing slightly like children did when they made a promise. The Doctor turned to her, surprised, and as she gazed back, he smiled. He returned the gestured and they remained like that. It was a promise shared between them but what it meant, Miranda wasn't sure. Maybe it meant something deeper than words could describe— a feeling, perhaps.

"Okay, I lied. Maybe I _could_ fall asleep," Miranda said with a half smile.

The Doctor grinned and watched her close her eyes, their little fingers still entwined. "Good night, Miranda Cole."

"Mm-night… Doctor."

She was just on the verge of slumber when a scream pierced the night. They bolted upright in bed, eyes wide and alert, and looked at each other. The shrill shriek sounded again and without hesitation. The Doctor and Miranda sprinted for the door, their hands now tightly interlocked.

* * *

><p>AN: It's been awhile, I know. Thanks to everyone who has shown interest and gave feedback during the gap. It's encouraged me to focus on this. I wanted to have this posted for the Anniversary but it didn't work out and the TARDIS is being temperamental so, oh well.<p>

I'm curious how you're liking the Doctor/Miranda bits. I know it's not very bold but they aren't exactly in love just yet or willing to acknowledge any feelings aside from friendship. But it a work in progress.

Also, I originally pictured Faust as a nice, agreeable character but as I started writing, he just morphed into this chauvinistic prick. And Burton and Burton—they're so fun to write. Why I am rambling?

I'd like to hear any suggestions, suspicions or general comments on the chapter/ story/ characters… Blah. Just review, please.


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